


Until the Last Petal Falls

by TheGeniusCallsYou



Series: War Roses [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Rumbelle - Freeform, War AU, Whump, injuries, no magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25956586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeniusCallsYou/pseuds/TheGeniusCallsYou
Summary: He could see the flowers floating before his eyes. A Bouquet. A single flower. Every time in different configuration but one thing was constant - the petals were falling away. Each time there were fewer and fewer petals attached to the stalk. And each time that happened, he could feel himself slipping further and further away.Or: Captain Gold has a son to find and woman to come back to, and nothing short of dying will keep him from doing just that.A continuation of the Rumbelle Showdown 2020 fic "The Dried Rose"
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: War Roses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857730
Comments: 36
Kudos: 44





	1. War Roses series' Cover Art

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my Rumbelle Showdown 2020 fic "The Dried Rose" so I highly recommend reading that one first ;) This can stand on its own too, but you'll have a better sense of what is going on after reading the first part ;)
> 
> The comment that @ForeverYoungLadyAnne made under "The Dried Rose" made me finally sit down and write down the sequel so here it is to your enjoyment!


	2. Chapter 1

He laid bleeding on the ground with dust in his hair and dirt in his mouth. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. A terrible ringing noise was the only thing he could hear even though he had known there should be other sounds all around him. Worst of all, it was harder and harder to remember where he was and why.

Someone moved him roughly. More a throw than a move, and he was sure that if his throat had felt anything other than a desert, he would have screamed. 

But he didn't.

Something wet and sticky ran down his throat almost choking him. His eyes were clogged, and even when he tried to open them, all he could see was a white light. No field, no people, just eye stabbing whiteness.

Someone kicked him, and he couldn't protect himself. No, he didn't want to. Because maybe if he didn't, it would hurt less.

It didn't. It hurt like hell.

Was this where he was, in hell?

His back was on fire. It felt like a heated poker was lodged just above his shoulderblade, twisting, demanding attention, going all the way through him, leaving a burning heat in its wake. He wanted to get away from it, to make it stop, but couldn't.

He didn't know what was worse - that or the fact he couldn't feel his right leg.

*

Roy Gold wasn't a well-liked man, and he knew it. Other officers had money or influence or a bit of both. He had neither of those two nor a family name worth a scrap. He was almost sure he was able to achieve what he did out of spite to prove to others that he wasn't a waste of air.  
Not enough for the officers and too much for simple solders o recognise him as one of their own, always suspended and not belonging. 

It didn't bother him, that feeling of being out of place. It didn't matter because he had someone to come back home to when many others didn't. That was until he didn't. Until his wife left him with not so much as a word of warning, taking his only joy in this miserable life with her. 

That night he had drunk himself almost to the point of dying, remembering every word screamed at him. Was it by her or his father he didn't really know, it very quickly became a blur. He was a worthless waste of air that would die in a trench in some godforsaken place with no name to mark his grave. He would be alone and never happy again.

*

His scratched the ground with his fingers braking his fingernails in the process. He needed to get out of there. Why or where he didn't know, but there was a strong feeling he couldn't name that demanded him to fight. Fight against the overwhelming urge to give up and just lie down. 

To rest.

To sleep.

*

Roy Gold had lost his son, but he didn't lose hope. Everywhere he had gone, every place the war had thrown him to, he was searching. This was his sole motivation to live and survive, and he thought it would always be like that. Because what else could push him forward?

Nothing. 

He was wrong. Like many times before, and many times he would be in the future. Because what would help him and give him another reason to survive wasn't a thing all. It was a person.

*

To die.

*

Gary Gaston was an idiot. That was the first thought that came to Gold's mind as he watched the man all but dancing around a young woman. If he could, he would probably parade before her shirtless. Wait, Gold frowned, he had already done that. Under the pretext of helping with the local work, he had happened to flex his muscles just as the woman had been walking down the street. Not that it changed anything, because she was as unperturbed by any of his actions as she had been before. 

Gaston was persistent, he would give him that, but he was a fool if thinking he would succeed. Gold took a deep drag on a cigarette, suppressing a smile when the woman pretended that it hadn't been her foot that Gaston had almost fallen over.

What was her name? 

He almost choked on the smoke as she turned her head in his direction. She knew he was watching, and from the look of it, she seemed to know he saw her tripping Gaston up.

She smiled at him as redness coloured her cheeks, and that smile almost took his breath away. 

Belle French. That was her name.

Gold discreetly smiled back.

*

He tried to crawl, his fingernails breaking even more as he put all his weight on them. He didn't manage to move an inch. He wanted to cry, but the strength to do as much was far beyond his reach. 

He didn't want to die.

But since when fate did listen to him?

*

Belle Frech wasn't just beautiful. She was smart, smarter than anyone could give her credit for. And somewhere around twenty years younger than him.

But, by God, he did love the way she smiled. And laughed. And spoke. And...

Gold caught himself staring and daydreaming once again. Belle was sitting three tables down from him, discussing something lively with her friend Ruby Lucas. There was a book lying near to her right elbow. It wasn't just some romance novel as many would assume, and Gold knew that much because he recognised the cover. It was a textbook, a philosophical one. He also knew this because Sargent Gaston had decided the day before it would be a great idea to mock Belle about her choice in literature. Moron. 

Gold took a sip of coffee lost in thought.

He knew some of his men were having fun with local girls - a meaningless fling, nothing more. There was the war to be won after all, and nobody had time for serious relationships, but Gold wasn't this sort of man. 

Belle French deserved someone far better than Gary Gaston.

She also deserved someone far better than him.

He looked down, not seeing as Belle turned around to smile at him.

*

Someone was dragging him by the hands. 

A friend?

An enemy?

Did it matter?

The motion pulled him out of the stupor he was in as pain flared in his shoulder. His throat felt raw and stinging. Had he managed to scream?

Someone dumped him on the ground, uncaringly, jolting his many wounds.

His ears didn't ring anymore. Instead, there was a mess inside his skull. A glass castle roughly smashed into pieces that dug in every corner of his brain with every small move.

Someone tore his jacket off. Did it happen? Or was it just inside his head? Because his brain was tearing into pieces just like an old, bloodied jacket.

He wanted to grasp at something, anything that would help to stop the nauseating spinning inside his head and would anchor him in the present.

His bloodied fingers clutched at the locket hanging from around his neck. 

*

Roy didn't know where the idea came from, nor the courage. But there he was, just outside Belle's house. He knew she would be leaving soon as he learned her routine by heart. His palms felt sweaty, and he had to swallow hard to clear his suddenly dry throat. He wanted to squeeze his hand, but mindful of the delicate flower he was holding, he managed to stop himself from doing so. 

Why was he doing this? It was stupid. Nothing would come out of this. Gold was sure of it, but it wouldn't have hurt to try or at least show, that that idiot Gaston wasn't the only one appreciating Belle French. That is if the younger man did as much because Gold had doubts. Gaston was only there for the looks.

Roy took a deep breath and crossed the street. He didn't have anything to lose really, aside from his pride.

He watched as Belle walked out the door and stopped upon seeing what laid on her porch. He saw as confusion crossed her face when she picked up the single red rose. He observed as she smelled it, a small wistful smile appearing on her face that caused his own lips to curl upwards slightly.

Belle French lifted her gaze from the flower, locking her eyes with his where he stood across the street. Gold's heart was beating like crazy, and a droplet of sweat rolled down his neck, disappearing just under the collar.

Belle smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with joy as she lifted the rose to her nose, holding it close.

He smiled back, a full, happy smile that he didn't remember using for a long, long time as a weight lifted from his shoulders.

*

There was a voice. Someone spoke to him, but he didn't understand the words. Something about staying where he belonged. Something about leaving what wasn't his to take.

He didn't understand. 

He tried to remember. Something. Anything. 

Remembering hurt.

The locket dug painfully into his palm as he squeezed it hard.

It hurt.

But even so, he knew he should know that voice.

*

Captain Roy Gold was running with a rifle in his hands, screaming orders at his men to stay close together. He was leading at the front, heart hammering hard against his chest, sweat running down his face from under the helmet. 

_On your left!_

It was chaos. 

_Granade!_

They split up.

_Man down! Man down!_

It was hell.

_Keep moving!_

Someone screamed.

_Shoot that sniper down!_

Someone crumpled to the ground.

_Keep moving!_

But they needed to push the enemy back.

He didn't hear the shot, but he felt it - a searing pain flaring in his shoulder, pushing him facedown on the ground. There was no time to roll over or scream as an explosion to his right lifted him high in the air before throwing him away.

Captain Roy Gold was unconscious before hitting the ground, but he knew one thing - the shot had come from the back.

*

"I didn't know this place was here. It's beautiful."

_Not as beautiful as you._

He smiled cheekily.

"You're sure you were born here? I found this with no problem at all."

Belle swept at his arm, hitting him lightly, playfully, before wrapping her arms around his biceps and resting her head on his shoulder.

"It could be our place. Our secret."

He smiled a side-looped smile.

"As so your father couldn't see you around the likes of me?"

"You mean sweet and charming?"

He grimaced.

"Not the words people would describe me." From the corner of his eye, he watched as his words made Belle giggle.

"Well, I'm not people. Come on, let's seat. The sun will be setting soon."

He didn't resist when she pulled him down. The grass was soft and just a little bit dump. Belle was right - this place was beautiful. The trees mostly hid the path leading here, making it almost impossible to spot if one didn't know where to look. The leaves were shuffling on the wind, the sound in perfect harmony with the floating water. 

Belle picked up a small stone and tossed it into the river, watching it sink.  
The sun was getting lower and lower with every minute, casting a gentle red glow all around them. In silence, one could hear as the crickets began to chirp.

"It's so calm here... One could forget that we're at war."

"It's hard to forget. At least for me."

She drew her legs towards her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she hugged her shins.

"Can we at least pretend?"

He smiled sadly then after a thought removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Not letting her go when finished, he squeezed. 

"Aye. That we can."

As she watched the sunset with a whistful smile as if she was seeing it for the first time, he had his eyes only on her. He drank her in wondering how many times he would see her before his last sunset.

*

Someone tried to wrestle the locket from his hand, and even in his miserable state, he tried to resist. It didn't do much - the chain broke, and he was kicked in the head hard enough to make him roll on the side.

Just before the darkness claimed him, his vision had cleared and he briefly saw who was leaning over him.

_I'm sorry, Baylen._

Then it was nothing.

_I'm sorry, Belle._

*

"I love you."

They lay on the grass, watching stars, his uniform jacket serving them as a blanket. The sky was clear, the temperature not too chilly, and Gold just couldn't help himself. He hadn't planned on saying the words, it just happened. 

"You don't have to feel the same, it doesn't matter," he added when met with silence. And it was true. He just wanted her to know, before - well... Before everything. 

Belle still didn't make a sound, so he closed his eyes and sighed slightly defeated.

"It's alright. I don't deserve you, I know. But I can't help it. I -"

"Roy?"

"Yes?"

Her voice sounded closer, but he didn't dare to open his eyes.

"Shut up."

His eyes flew open in surprise then fluttered shut when he felt her lips against his. Belle smiled softly against the kiss.

"Does it answer how I feel?"

He swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat. With a shaking hand, he traced her lips, not believing that just a second ago they were locked with his. Belle was leaning over him and still smiling, she bent down and bumped their foreheads.

"I love you too, silly."

*

"There's a man down here!"

"My God, he's still breathing!"

"Bring the stretcher! Quickly!" 

*

"Your father keeps looking at me as if I've robbed his house or something."

Belle sighed and placed the book she had been reading next to her lap and looked down at Gold. With his head rested against her legs, he puffed a cloud of smoke from a cigarette somewhere to his right so it wouldn't hit Belle on the face.

"I'll talk to him. Not that would change anything."

"Probably not. Although," Gold twisted so he could look at Belle, the cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, "I did rob him in some way."

She plugged the fag from his mouth and threw it over her shoulder. He tried to look offended.

"I'm not my father's property."

He frowned and sat up. The playfulness all but gone from his gaze as he tried to read Belle's troubled expression.

"You know I don't think you are."

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry, I'm just touchy."

"Is everything alright? Is it Gaston again? I can make him dig some holes again if that would help?" He added when she didn't answer. Her lips twitched, at his remark and he counted this as a victory.

"As amusing as that would be, there's no need for that."

"If it's not Gaston, then what is it?"

Belle sighed and rested her head against the tree trunk. She didn't speak, but Gold could see her gather her thoughts and decided not to rush her. Instead, he moved to sit beside her and wordlessly draped an arm around her shoulders. Without further prompting, Belle's arms went around his middle, and her head rested on his chest.

"I'm just tired," she whispered. "I'm tired of my father thinking what is better for me because he knew Gary's father. I'm tired of people looking at me with pity because they think they knew better. Stupid Belle, always with her head in the clouds."

"You're not stupid, sweetheart," he said while tightening his hold on her. "You're smarter than this whole town. I know what I'm talking about, I'm dealing with idiots every day."

She sniggered against his shirt, and he smiled, looking down at her.

"They would probably all get a heart attack if I kissed you in the middle of the street."

"Idiots they may be, but some might be useful yet."

Belle untangled herself from his arms and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Thank you."

"Not that I'm complaining, but for what?"

She smiled and nuzzled his nose playfully, her mood visibly changed.

"For being you."

"Not sure if that's a compliment, but I'll trust you on that."

He bent down to kiss her again.

*

Where was he? 

_We need to bring down his fever._

Who was he?

_His ID disks are missing. He was clutching this when they brought him._

Why did it hurt so much? 

_The infection is spreading. He's in God's hands now._

Make it stop.

_We may need to amputate the leg._

God, please just make it stop.

*

His hair freshly cut he was making his way to his flat to pack his bag when Ruby Lucas caught his arm and pulled him around the corner away from the main street. The action happed so suddenly he didn't have time to protest and just went with her without a word. Gold was about to say what he thought about all of it just as the woman pushed him far enough so they wouldn't be spotted right away, but the look on her face had stopped him. Instead of talking, he raised an amused eyebrow at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I'm not going to jump you if that's what you're thinking," she said after nervously looking around. 

"I'm relieved." 

"Look, I know about you and Belle. No, let me finish," she rushed as she saw him opening his mouth to protest, "you're not as subtle as you think, but that's fine."

"Is there a point to this, Miss Lucas?"

"Just be careful, alright? I know her dad suspects and all, and I also know Belle doesn't seem to care, but... Just don't - don't hurt her."

He frowned.

"I would never do that. You should know as much."

"She should know better, but she seems to have fallen in love with you." His heart fluttered in his chest at those words. "Don't get killed, Gold. If you die, Belle will hurt."

*

A funny thing - Dying. Hot and Cold. Numb and Oversensitive. And the overwhelming helplessness. 

Most of the time, he didn't feel a thing. It was as if he was floating, not connected to his body. He didn't know how much time had passed. Could be days, could be months, hours or years. It didn't really matter anyway.

But there were times when he felt as if he was burning alive. There was no escape from it. The more he tried, the more it hurt. Everywhere he turned, there was a wall of burning fire he couldn't escape.

_Come back._

Whose voice was that? He kept hearing that voice, the woman's voice.

_I'm exactly where I want to be._

He had promised something to the owner of that voice. Something important. Something that was making his soul fight, even though his tattered body wanted to give up.

_I'll wait for you, even if it meant forever._

What was the promise?

*

"Roy!"

He didn't expect her to see him off. They had said their goodbyes in privet, and he supposed that was it. Maybe she would have stood with the others townsfolk at the town square, but he didn't see this one coming, because right now as he turned around surprised, she barreled into him. His arms came around her on instinct. Belle was small, but she had thrown herself at him with such a force, that it made him take a step back.

He held her tight, her small arms around his neck squeezing hard almost enough to choke, but he didn't care. Gold could feel she was trying not to break down, and even though he felt like that himself, he knew he couldn't. He needed to be strong. If not for himself, then for her. 

Slowly, reluctantly she let him go as if remembering for the first time they weren't alone. Gold gazed into her eyes, watching the storm of emotions that flickered in them, oblivious to all of this. 

If it was his last time seeing her, he didn't want it to be like this.

He bent down and claimed her lips right here, right there, among all those other people for the first time, purring all of his emotions into it. It was messy, hard and desperate, but he didn't care. The world could burn for what he cared. It was worth it.

"Remember your promise," she whispered against his lips.

"I will," he answered before stepping away from her but still holding her by the fingers.

He could feel others watching them, but he had his eyes only on Belle.

"It's not a Goodbye," she said, fighting back the tears.

He didn't answer just smiled, a small but sad smile and turned around, letting go of her hand. He picked up the rifle that had fallen to the ground when Belle had run into him and marched forward, not looking at anybody else. If he did, he would have seen Sargent Gaston watching him with hatred in his eyes.

*

He was standing on the beach or at least he thought he did. It was sometimes confusing because he knew he couldn't really be here, that all of this was probably inside his head, but it didn't matter. He sighed and bent down to take a stone in his hand to throw it into the sea. What landed in his hand wasn't a stone at all but a flower - a rose.

He had given her a rose - the woman whose voice he had been hearing. No, many roses. He could see the flowers floating before his eyes, mocking him as he couldn't remember. A Bouquet. A single flower. Every time in different configuration but one thing was constant - the petals were falling away. Each time there were fewer and fewer petals attached to the stalk. And each time he saw the rose, he could feel himself slipping further and further away.

He wanted the petals to reattach themselves. He felt they should, but didn't know how to make them do so. How could you mend something that was broken? 

The sea wasn't as calm as it should be anymore. Dark clouds blotted out the sun; the wind became stronger. By all means, he should be seeking shelter, but he wasn't. He was rotted to the spot, unable to move as the seawater hit his face.

Something silver shone in the waves, and soon a small locket was washed ashore before his feet. He picked it up as the wind became stronger, blowing the rose petals around him. The pendant was closed.

He knew that locket. He wrenched it open, breaking his fingernails in the process. 

_"Who's he?"_  
_"My son Baylen."_

A son.

He had a son.

He tried to grasp at the memory, concentrating even if it hurt. It was the woman's voice - the woman who he had given the promise. 

What was the promise?

A boy in the photograph smiled at him encouragingly. 

Something had shifted, but he was too focused to notice that his surroundings weren't so dark anymore and the petals had stopped floating.

_Come back, and we'll both look for Baylen. Promise me you'll try, please._

_I promise._

The beach had disappeared from underneath his feet. Blood roared in his ears, but there was also something else. Noises. Noises, he hadn't heard before. 

Where was he?

A great wave came over him, and soon he didn't know where was up and where was down as he spun and spun, and spun. He was in the water but also not, somewhere in between, nowhere at all.

It hurt.

His shoulder, his face, his right leg - it all hurt.

The pain didn't matter. He had a promise to keep, and a son to find.  
He moved his arms and legs in an attempt to swim. Suddenly he knew where he should go and moved in that direction. He no longer was in the water, but in a corridor with a single, black door.

Touching the handle had hurt. The metal burned him, but he knew he needed to open it. Behind him was a single red rose with only one petal left. Somehow he knew he couldn't let it fall. 

He turned the doorknob, gritting his teeth as agony flooded his entire body.

_Belle. Baylen. I'm coming. I promise._

Unbeknownst to him, two petals reattached themselves to the stork, and as he pushed the door open, captain Roy Gold opened his eyes.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter for your enjoyment! I threw the idea of this being 3 chapters long out of the window, well... I don't want to make it too rushed, so we will see how it goes :)
> 
> Also, the last time I've actively used German was around 5 years ago, and I really hope I didn't butcher those few lines that you'll find there 😅 The translations are at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Life without the constant threat of being bombed felt weird, at least in Ruby's opinion. Storybrooke hadn't been a place in constant danger, but the fear had been there all the time. Being able to get out of the house just like that was weird at its best, and she was still getting used to this new feeling. Even now, as Ruby watched the people walking down the street, she could tell everyone looked different. There was a spring in their steps, they smiled more and seemed generally happier. At least most of them. Ruby's hands, that up to this moment were wiping the table with a cloth, stilled, and her eyes clouded with sadness. Most people were happier with every day, but not Belle. Not her best friend. 

At first, it had looked like she had been in denial, but these days she didn't even bother with putting on a mask. Belle could disappear for hours, and nobody was the wiser, to where she was, just like now. Maybe it was for the better, Ruby thought. This way, that idiot Gary couldn't bother her.

One could think the man had a little decency in him, but no. He hadn't even waited a week after delivering the news of Gold's demise before jumping right into courting Belle yet again. It had been months since then, and Ruby was worried. Worried because each day her friend had looked worse and worse, and Gary acted more forward. With that, Ruby was even more afraid that there would come a time when Belle wouldn't come back from wherever she had been disappearing.

The town seemed oblivious to this aside from poorly hidden pity glances thrown in Belle's way, and Ruby was furious. Belle didn't deserve any of this. Neither did Gold to be honest. But what if her friend was right? What if he was still alive? Ridiculous as it sounded, there was something not right in this situation, and it all had to do with how smug Gary had looked when Belle all but crumbled to the ground when he had given her Gold's jacket.

Ruby sighed, shook her head and finished wiping the table. Miracles did happen - the war had ended, after all, but bringing back the dead? Things like that didn't stand a chance, at least in Storybrooke.

"Ruby! You won't believe it, come on!"

The doors to the dinner slammed open so hard that the blinds shuddered in the windows. Ruby jumped scared out of her mind and turned around to find Dorothy, the cute girl from the store across the street, panting hard on the doorstep. 

"Wha - Hey!" Dorothy ran towards her, and clasping her wrist, pulled her hard towards the exit, making her stumble.

"No time, come on!"

"Slow down! I swear If you're pulling me just to see Leroy's drunken shenanigans, so help me!"

Dorothy threw her an annoyed look over her shoulder, but she did slow down a little bit. She was just about to open her mouth to ask, yet again what was going on, but they saw made her stop. 

A small crowd had gathered in the middle of the street. All people were looking in the direction of an old farm truck that was coming their way just about now. Ruby knew that truck. It was Marco's, and when squinting her eyes, she could make out the outline of the older man behind the wheel. There was also someone else sitting on the passenger seat. 

"Dorothy - "

"August had run ahead with the news, but nobody believed him," the woman said excitedly while still tugging her forward, pushing through the crowd so they could be at the front.

"Did Marco finally sold some of those old clocks he was repairing or what?"

"As if. No." Dorothy's eyes shone with excitement as the truck was getting closer. "They were at the market - Marco and August - as one of the farmers dropped someone off saying it would be easier there to find someone heading to Storybrook."

"Wait, you're saying -"

"Marco, of course, had a stall nearby and heard all of it," Dorothy was still talking not letting her get a word in. "August said the poor man almost got a heart attack when he saw who the guy was talking to."

"Can you stop keeping me in suspense? What's going on?"

"Marco saw a ghost."

Ruby was just opening her mouth to kindly ask Dorothy to stop messing with her when the truck parked in the middle of the street, and she heard a collective gasp all around her.

"Slap me thrice and hand me to me mama," she heard Leroy almost whisper disbelievingly. "It's Gold."

Ruby whipped her head so fast towards the passenger seat that she felt pain shoot in her neck from the motion. The door was open now, and hight enough to obscure the person behind them. All she could see was a pair of boots and a set of crutches, but there was no reason to not believe Leroy. He was a drunkard, but not a blind one. Slowly the person behind the door took a step forward, a cautious one - the crutches were the first to move, and Ruby realised she was holding her breath.

"Oh, God," she choked out, covering her mouth.

It seemed that miracles sometimes did happen in Storybrook because there he was - captain Roy Gold - alive. But alive was a strong word for someone who looked like he had been to hell and back. 

The coat he was wearing was at least two sizes too big for him and clearly borrowed, but it couldn't hide how thin he was. In civil clothes, he looked even smaller than before, and they hung on him as if he was just a hanger. His hair longer and almost touching his shoulders framed his nearly deadly pale face, and Ruby could feel tears welling in her eyes. She had never liked him very much and couldn't understand what it was that Belle had seen in him, but still, she had tolerated him and in time even began to respect the man after seeing how he acted around her best friend. There was no mistake that Gold was full of emotions that he liked to hide, but around Belle, it had been hard not to see that there had been more to him than others believed. He now spoke quietly with Marco as if not seeing the crowd that had gathered around the truck and by the way he was holding himself, Ruby somehow knew he was in pain. The still visible stitched head wound, the crutches, the tremble in his left arm... She wondered what injuries his loose clothes were hiding and her heart broke just a little bit. Nobody deserved to look like that. But he was alive. And that meant Belle would be too.

Ruby didn't know when she moved. She didn't think about it, but her feet carried her towards the man on their own accord. He didn't spot her at first, and it took a moment for him to register that someone was approaching him as if he had trouble hearing her footsteps. 

From up close, he looked even worse with dark circles under his eyes and droplets of sweat marring his pale skin. But he was alive, not a ghost. Ruby swallowed and before she could second guess her actions, she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him close, mindful of the crutches he was holding in a death grip. His whole posture went rigid, and for a moment, she wondered if it had been such a good idea before she had felt him relax. Not much, just so slightly to lean into her a little bit, but it was enough. 

"We were told you were dead," she said hoarsely.

"The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated," he whispered back.

His voice was rough as if not used for quite some time and her heart clenched a little. What had happened to him? 

Ruby didn't know for how long she was hugging him before he shifted backwards slightly and she untangled her arms, freeing him from the embrace. He was leaning more firmly on his left crutch, and just now she could see that his right foot was raised slightly above the ground. She swallowed hard and was about to ask him about it when suddenly he gripped her hand, and her eyes snapped back to his face.

"Where's Belle?" 

There were so many emotions in his eyes and voice that all she could do was stare at him not able to speak. 

"Miss Lucas. Please."

That one snapped her back to the present. If she felt that his grip on her arm wasn't as firm as it should be, she didn't let it show.

"I don't know. She sometimes disappears, and I don't know where she goes... We thought you were dead... Gaston brought back your jacket... There was blood..."

She added the last bit in a half-whisper. Gold closed his eyes like he was in pain and his grip on her arm slackened. Ruby watched him swallow hard, and she couldn't help but marvel at the raw emotions visible on the man's face.

"She didn't believe it," his gaze snapped back to her, his eyes wide. "Not for a second. Everyone else thought her mad, but here you are." She tried to smile at him, but it didn't come out as helpful as she hoped it would. "But I don't know where to find her."

"There is a path near the river. It's small and almost impossible to find if you don't know where to look." His accent was stronger than she was used to, and she had to focus on understanding all the words. "I won't be able to go there - my leg -"

"I'll go. Tell me where to look," she added hastily and watched as gratitude appeared in his tired eyes.

Gold told her and Ruby didn't waste more time and all but run from the street towards to river, oblivious to questions fired in her direction by others. Belle needed her. 

Ruby could hear Granny shouting at others to move away and give Gold some room to breathe. The older woman hadn't been very fond of the captain, but Ruby knew she could be protective as hell and when Gold looked like that it was hard to just leave him be.

*

"All right people! The show's over!"

Widow Lucas took three steps forward and fixed everybody present with a glare. Most of them knew that it was better not to cross her, but some still lingered, shooting curious looks in Gold's direction. She glared at them more fiercely, before making sure that the man was still standing as he looked dead on his feet. 

"What part of over didn't you understand?"

She watched them gulp in unease and soon there were only three people beside her left. She shook her head in displeasure and marched towards Gold.

"Come along, there's no point in you standing in the middle of the street like a lost puppy."

She tried not to pay attention to how bad he looked, but it was hard, even for her. One thing she knew, though - men like Gold didn't like to be pitied. Her late husband had been just the same. Normality - that's what Gold needed, and it wouldn't do for her to start mothering him. 

Without waiting for a reply, she turned around and marched towards the Diner, and if her pace was slower than usual, well, it surely wasn't for Gold's benefit. Her steps didn't falter when she heard the tap of crutches and the unmistakable sound of uneven footsteps behind her, but she let herself smile a little bit in victory. 

Upon reaching the Diner, she waited patiently for him to take a seat inside - there was no need for him to be on the chilly air longer than necessary. He limped towards the table closest to the doors and by the window, and all but dropped into the chair. She tried not to stare at him, but one didn't need to do that to see how dreadful he looked. Widow Lucas counted to twenty in her head to let the man catch his breath before approaching him.

"Have you eaten anything?" She asked and frowned when he didn't answer right away. "Gold? Your last meal - when was it?"

He let out a little, humourless laugh as if finally understanding what she meant, and she frowned harder when hearing it.

"That wasn't at the top of my list for the most time, dearie."

"Well, it better would be now. I'll not have you dropping dead in my Diner. Do I make myself clear?" He nodded, but still avoided eye contact. She sighed and shook her head before disappearing into the kitchen.

The clothes he wore couldn't hide how thin he was. Granny almost viciously poured the broth into the bowl, adding some extra meat into it. Soldiers. They were all the same. Her husband had been just the same. 

"Eat before it gets cold," she said while putting the bowl before him together with three slices of bread. Gold didn't move. He stared at the food as if unsure what to do with it. Widow Lucas crossed her arms. "I didn't poison it if that's what you're worried about."

"I can't eat it."

"Your sticking out bones say otherwise."

He still didn't look up, just hunched his shoulders and she could see how he clenched his fists under the table. The heavy silence stretched between them as Widow Lucas waited for any reaction from the man.

"I don't have any money..." He mumbled, fixing the table with a hard stare. Granny rolled her eyes asking the heavens for patience. Men. They were always the same.

"Do you see a bill anywhere? It's on the house, and if I hear another word about it, I'm taking the broth away. Do you want me to take it, captain?" He glared at her, but instead of answering, he finally picked up the spoon. Granny let herself smirk a little in victory. For a moment, the gleam in his eyes reminded her of the old Gold, the one before being declared dead. 

Her victory was short-lived, though. The man's hand began to shake just after two swings of a spoon. He ate hastily, hungrily, broth running down his chin and Granny couldn't help but wonder when was the last time he had a decent meal. She swallowed, not wanting to show how affected she was and went to pour Gold a cup of tea, sneaking a cookie onto the plate. He always preferred tea to coffee.

"So," she sat down on the vacant chair and pushed the cup towards him, making Gold look up from where he was currently sweeping the bowl with the slice of bread. "What happened to you?"

"It's a long story."

*

The last thing he remembered had been a closed, dark door and a very painful to touch doorknob. It was difficult to decide if that happened or not. Even now, the world was a hazy mix of images that didn't make any sense. 

A door. The sound of explosions. The beach. Someone tearing his jacket off. What had happened and what hadn't? Cobwebs enveloped his mind, making it difficult to focus on one thing. The only fact he was able to tell that was true for the present was the overwhelming smell of sickness invading his nostrils. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt so dry the attempt resulted in an uncontrollable coughing fit. 

This was when the pain began. Flaring, burning, surrounding him whole, without one point of origin. It was everywhere, inside and out and when he tried to twist away, escape the feeling it got even worse. And he didn't have a voice to scream. Through the fog, he noticed someone hurriedly approaching him with a needle in their hand. 

Then there was nothing.

*

The second time he woke up, or at least he thought it was the second, it still was no better, but he was somewhat ready. He took it slower, not daring to move in fear of provoking the burning sensation from the last time. His throat felt like sand, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep himself from clearing it for long. 

He took a moment to listen to what his body was telling him about his state but came up with almost nothing. The smell from earlier had lingered, something was bound around his head and blocking the sight in his right eye (a bandage perhaps?). He felt numb, his brain sluggish, and he knew he should recognise the symptoms, but it was still tough to think straight.

He looked around instead as much as he could with only one eye uncovered and a double vision that was making his head hurt. It didn't look like he was held prisoner - a prisoner wouldn't be lying on a cot and covered with a duvet. There was a metal cabinet near him, and he thought he could see another bed not so far away. He wasn't so sure of that fact - even the smallest of movements sent flares of pain inside his skull.

"Wie schön, Sie sind wach!" 

His eye winded upon hearing the voice, and his heartbeat quicken as he recognised the words - not English but German. Had he been mistaken? Had they taken him prisoner after all? If so, he needed to get out, escape or, or...  
He jerked once, and the movement alone almost made him black out.

It was to no avail. He couldn't move - his arm was bound to his body, and legs uncooperative, all he could focus on was breathing as to not pass out again. He screwed his eye shut, trying to breathe through the nose when a soft, small hand rested on his forehead.

"Wh-" he didn't manage to say even that much without the urge to cough. The terrible rattling noise was the only thing that left his mouth after that.

"Ganz ruhig. Alles wird gut." The hand continued to stroke his hair, and soon, a wet cloth touched his forehead, bringing relief, to his inflamed skin. Was it always so hot? 

Another cloth wetted his cracked lips, allowing him to soothe his raw throat with small droplets of water. He swallowed them hungrily, just realising how much he needed them, and someone squeezed harder, making more water run down his throat.

At that moment, he felt like crying. 

Slowly he opened his eye, forcing his vision to focus and his heart to calm down. Surely, they wouldn't treat a prisoner this kindly? Slowly the image before him cleared and he saw a young, blond woman leaning over him. She was smiling softly, her eyes kind, and he let himself take a deeper breath. She didn't wear a nazi uniform, but a medical one.

"You are in hospital," she said with a heavily accented but calm voice as if talking to a child. "Your name... sorry. Erinnern Sie sich an Ihren Name?"

He knew he should. The question wasn't that hard, but for the love of him, he couldn't remember. The nurse must have seen his frustration because she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"That is all right. The war ended."

She was still holding his hand as his eye rolled in his head before he managed to answer in some way.

*

His days looked mostly the same. He would wake up, find himself unable to move an inch without causing painful reminder of why he shouldn't and then slip back into unrestful sleep. He was weak and tired and sick of it all. 

Two people accompanied him in this misery - The blond nurse to whose face he had woken up for the first time, that spoke to him in a mix of English and German, and a blond doctor that knew more English than a simple German doctor should.

He also knew enough German to know they didn't tell him everything. They spoke of fever, infections and stuff that were beyond his vocabulary. But he trusted him on one thing - the war had ended.

And every time he slipped back into sleep, his dreams were full of rose petals that he desperately wanted to catch.

*

"You're English?"

"Scottish."

He could see the doctor smirk as he rebandaged his head. He didn't question why the man was the one to do it instead of the nurse - in the days he had spent more conscious than sleeping, he had learned that the blond was quite a peculiar human. He didn't smile a lot and spoke little, but one didn't need to see the matching rings on him and the nurse to know they were together. Every time he saw them talking, he wondered if he and Belle had looked at each other in the same way. The thought of Belle made his heart painfully clench. Did she even know he was alive?

"I don't think we were properly introduced before. Hanno Tauber."

The doctor's exchanged hand took him out of his thoughts, and Gold looked at it startled. The man was right. That, or he was just too out of it to remember. The fact he still had a hearing problem on the right side, didn't help with carrying on conversations. Maybe that was why the other man always approached him from the left. 

He took the offered hand, and if his grip was sloppy and weak, the other man didn't let it show.

"Sehr erfreut, Doktor. Roy Gold. Captain in the 15th Scottish Infantry Division."

"The pleasure is mine, captain."

*

"What's wrong with my leg?" Gold had seen how doctor Tauber looked worriedly at his charts and stole glances towards the said limb. He didn't dare to look at it himself. Every time the nurse had come to change the dressing, he pretended to be asleep. Not that it was a very effective lie as even removing the bandages hurt like hell. He also knew the nurse had never been fooled, but let him pretend. Probably only for his own benefit.

The man stilled at the question, but instead of answering, continued to write something in his notebook with a scowl on his face.

"Ich habe die Frage gestellt."

"Yes, that you did," the man sighed and closed the notebook with a snap then run a hand through his hair. Gold waited, but his patience was wearing thin. He found out quite early on that speaking to the man in German sometimes worked better than being stubborn in English, but even he had his limits. Soon he would start being stubborn in German if that was what would take to get some real answers from the man. Reluctantly, Tauber dragged a chair to Gold's side and sat down.

"Do you remember anything from when you were brought here, captain?" Gold stayed silent, and the doctor took as what it was. "They thought you a dead man - there on the battlefield. They didn't give you any chances. Figured if the wounds didn't kill you, the infection might. It still has a chance to do just that."

He let that sink for a moment, watching Gold closely for any reaction, then sighed as didn't get any.

"Your leg... It's only a part of the problem. It broke in three places, and they wanted to cut it off two times already. They still want to."

"Then why didn't you?" He finally asked, fighting the gulp in his throat. His hands left hand clenched, and he could feel his fingernails dig into his skin painfully. He welcomed it.

Tauber looked troubled, and Gold could swear the man was avoiding looking directly at him. Then he took a deep breath and Gold could sware, the man was looking directly into his soul.

"Because I think you wouldn't survive it. I still think so," he admitted. "You're still feverish, and - what's the word? Untererährt... malnourished - that's it." He stayed silent, looking on a clock hanging on the wall. 

"What would you do? In my place."

He looked the other man directly in the eye and watched for any sort of emotion that would betray what he thought. The doctor didn't drop his gaze.

"Ich würde kämpfen und ich weiß Sie werden das Gleiche tun." 

*

"You want me to send for doctor Whale? You don't look so good, captain. He might -"

"There's nothing more that can be done, but thank you for asking."

She hummed while grimacing at the same time. Gold's answer was short, clipped, and by the stiffening of his shoulders, she could tell that maybe she had crossed a line. Gold kept looking out of the window, his eyes twitching just so slightly. 

"She'll come, stop being so tense," she leaned back with a smirk as his head snapped back to her.

"I don't know what you implying."

"I'm old but not stupid, captain. That woman kept carrying your bloody jacket everywhere she went. She will come."

He didn't answer. Just turned back to look out of the window.

*

"Do you believe in precognition? The higher power?"

This had been the first time they let him use the crutches, which in perspective hadn't been such a good idea, but they had relented after he had threatened to just get out of bed on his own. The left one had dug painfully in his armpit, making him feel in every fibre of his being the stitched hole that the bullet had torn in his shoulder. The pain he had felt when putting all his weight on his arms had made his vision go black and stagger. Out of sheer stubbornness, he had been able to make the significant number of steps, precisely three, before all but collapsing to the floor, all sweaty and groaning. He would have if Tauber didn't catch him, cushioning the fall so he wouldn't aggravate his still healing wounds.

Now they were sitting side by side on the ground, passing the cigarette between the two of them. Gold was thankful the other man didn't make any comment on his pitiful state.

"Higher power?"

"um... Höhere Gewalt."

The doctor nodded in understanding.

"Why ask?"

"I keep having those dreams... Weird dreams..."

"What do you think of them?"

Gold shook his head. "I honestly don't know."

The man didn't say anything to that but took a long drag on the cigarette, staring ahead before passing it to Gold without looking at him.

"Two years ago, the Nazis came to the hospital," he started. "They learned that we were treating the enemy soldiers. They shot me. Here." He tapped the left side of his chest, and Gold couldn't help but wonder how close the spot the man had shown was to his heart. "I thought I went to hell." Tauber swallowed hard. "In there, we had a daughter - my wife and I. She was taken away from us. I promised my wife I would bring her back and see her again. I would do anything to do that, but I failed."

Gold grimaced.

"Your hell sounds awfully like my life," he murmured.

"When they brought you, you clutched that small silver thing you wear around your neck -"

"The locket."

"Yes. That. I saw the photo inside it and remembered that incident, and couldn't shake the feeling I need to save your life." 

They sat in silence, the cigarette almost burned out. 

"I wonder..." the doctor drew his brows together," maybe your dreams have a purpose too? So you wouldn't forget about what drives you."

Gold let out a humourless laugh.

"If only it could be so easy."

"Well, I do believe in fate. And I also believe that you will find what you seek in the end. The road may be bumpy, but you will get there. Now come along captain," Tauber flicked the cigarette away and got to his feet. "I need to check how your shoulder fares."

*

What if she wasn't by the river?

What if Miss Lucas couldn't find her?

What if...?

Gold swallowed hard and closed his eyes, willing to clutch at anything that would anchor him in the present and made his brain stop. His hand absently, unwillingly sneaked towards his chest to grasp at the locket before it stilled, hanging absently in the air. He let it drop as different kind of pain flared, breaking his heart.

There was no locket with a photograph hanging around his neck. Not anymore. The remainder of that hurt more than bruises marring his torso.

He clenched his hands into fists willing them to stop shaking. 

The things he had seen when he closed his eyes hadn't been real, even if they felt like it.

_Please Belle._

*

"I can't take it."

"And I can't accept you not taking it."

Gold scowled at Tauber, but the man looked back at him unfazed. 

"You've already lent me your clothes, I can't take your money as well," he almost hissed.

"And how will you get to the coast without them? You can pay me back in the future, you have the address."

Gold gritted his teeth, but finally even if reluctantly, he took the bundle form the doctor's hand.

"I still wish you would stay longer. Your body is not ready yet."

"I appreciate the concern, but I can't. You know why."

"Yes. Unfortunately, I do." Tauber hesitated. "Are you really sure?"

"I know who I saw. I need to get home."

The doctor nodded and after a moment extended his hand.

"Viel Glück, Roy."

Gold clasped the doctor hand then took the crutches offered to him.

"Thank you, Hanno."

*

The axe fell down to the ground with a thud, missing his foot by the inches, but Gary didn't see any of it. One moment he raised it ready to bring it down on the block of wood, the next it was sleeping from his fingers as his grip slackened in shock. 

_Gold's alive! He's back!_

He could still hear Leroy's excited voice down the street as the man run delivering the news to anyone in his eye range. The words echoed in his skull like ringing bells.

Gary's right eye twitched, his fingers clenched and unclenched at their own account.

_Impossible._

Wading across the water. The screams. The well-aimed shot. All of this and a lot more.

_There was just no way._

He could feel it, just as he had before - the raising, blinding range as he closed his eyes.

_I won't let you!_

The scuffle. The blood on his hands.

_Fuck!_

The trickle of blood ran down his palm from where his fingernails broke his skin. Stifling the scream that threatened to escape his throat, he kicked the block of wood with all his might. He didn't watch it fall down to the ground but turned around towards the house instead.

He needed to get his gun. One couldn't be too careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wie schön, Sie sind wach! - Good, You're awake!  
> Ganz ruhig. Alles wird gut - Easy. It's alright.  
> Erinnern Sie sich an Ihren Name? - Do you remember your name?  
> Sehr erfreut, Doktor - Nice to meet you, Doctor.  
> Ich habe die Frage gestellt. - I asked a question.  
> Ich würde kämpfen und ich weiß Sie werden das Gleiche tun. - I would fight and I know you would too.  
> Viel Glück - Good luck. 
> 
> Those of you, who have seen the TV-series "Dark" (And those who didn't - go and watch it, it's incredible!) might recognise the character of Hanno - I just couldn't resist not including him. I love the man and he deserved better!


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translations of the few German lines are in the endnotes :)

_My Dear Child,_

_There aren't many constants in your life. You are born, you live, and you die. That's how the world works. But sometimes something else enters the fray. Sometimes you let the love into your heart that is so strong it has the power to break you once gone. Love is never foolish, you will know it in time and don't ever let anybody tell you otherwise. Love is a gem to be cherished, a torch to be carried and flame to be upheld. You may think me silly now, my dear Belle, but remember this - whatever happens, don't let anybody tell you who to love and who to not. Trust your heart as I've trusted mine. That's my last ever advice to you, and I'm sorry I won't see you grow up. But I love you, as does your father. Everything he does he does out of love, and it may be hard for him to accept somethings. Give him time. We both love you so much._

_Mama_

*

"How can you say things like that?!"

"It's been months! You can't possibly keep hanging on false hope."

"Why? Because you say so?"

"He's dead, Belle. And I will repeat it if I have to - "

"You're actually happy about it..." she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. "Roy did nothing to deserve that. You didn't know him - not as I did."

"He was too old for you - "

"And what does it say about you and mum?!" 

The angry shout rendered him speechless, and all that he was able to do was open and close his mouth again and again. Moe didn't know what had brought on the argument. Maybe it was the fact he had noticed the tattered uniform jacket laying on his daughter's bed or perhaps the offside remark about Gary. The point was he was beginning to feel really sick of the whole affair. 

He couldn't understand any of it. How could that be that Belle had fallen for someone like Gold? There had been nothing good in the man, Moe could tell. But they had kissed right there, on the towns square and since then his daughter had been distant. Not to say that she had eaten a lot less and looked almost dreadful since the catastrophic, in her mind, news about the captain's demise. 

But she was right, wasn't she? About him and Colette? He had never thought about it, but there had been quite an age difference between the two of them. Weird how facts like that so quickly pushed aside.

The sound of slamming doors made him jump and look around. 

"Belle... Belle!" She didn't hear him or didn't want to. 

He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. In times like this, he really missed his wife. She would know what to do...

Moe busied himself with cleaning the dishes. He collected the plates and brought them to the sink. He turned the tap on and watched the water flow, waiting for it to get warmer. Even if he tried to understand Belle's feelings, there was simply no way, Gold was alive. There was just no word from the man. If his feelings had been as genuine as he had claimed with his actions, then why wouldn't he give any sign of life?

No. Gold was dead, and Belle needed to see that. She would come back and then they would talk. Maybe this time it would work out. 

If Gold wasn't dead, then where was he?

Moe didn't want to think too much about that.

*

"Raus mit dem Geld, Krüppel!"

Gold was almost at his destination when they ambushed him and it as about then he realised he was fortunate it was happening now and not before. Three young men, no older than twenty, surrounded him with knives and bats in their hands. On any given day he would have taken all of them down with no problem, but now? He would be lucky to disarm even one.

"Ich will keinen Ärger," he said while looking cautiously from one man to another. Slowly, so they would see his moves, he reached to his inner pocket and pulled out the money. 

The oldest one approached him, swaying arrogantly, playing with the knife with his fingers. He had blond, unruly hair and a diagonal scar over his cheek. Gold didn't look at the blade, but the man's eyes, trying for a neutral expression. It would not do to anger any of his oppressors right now. Not while being in the disadvantage. They didn't look like criminals by choice, more like kids pushed into this life, not by their own choice.

The others watched him like hawks as the one in front of Gold counted the bills.

"Das ist alles?" He snarled waving his remining bills in front of his face." Hältst du mich für blöde?!" He added pocking him in the chest.

"Sehe ich aus wie ein betuchter Kerl?"

It was the last thing he had said, and utterly wrong choice of words it seemed before one of the bats hit him between the shoulders. The crutches were kicked out from under him, and soon he was on the ground with the man's boot planted in his stomach. 

They didn't even search his pockets, just kicked him for some time before leaving him be, but not before spitting at him.

Gold didn't know for how long he had been lying curled on the ground, trying to breathe through his nose, willing the pain to lessen. He didn't blame the boys, he should keep his mouth shut, but as it seemed old habits died hard.

Finally, with quite some effort, he got to his knees. His crutches lied not far from him, fortunately not broken - he didn't know what he would have done if they were. Slowly he crawled towards them, and with a painful half-stiffed sob he stood up.

He had no money now, but somehow he would find a way. 

He had to.

*

One drop than another fell onto the old, crumpled parchment that he was clutching with a shaky hand. A weird, strangled noise reached his ears, and it took him another wet spot from a tear for him to recognise it for what it was. Moe French hastily wiped at his eyes as he heavily sat down, covering his mouth. He didn't expect to find the latter in Belle's room. Moe had come in just to check if maybe this time she would be there, not somewhere he didn't know where. Instead of her daughter, he had found an old, faded latter and curiosity got better of him. 

He had picked it up, thinking it was from Gold, but as soon as his eyes had landed on the letters, he had known. Even after all those years, he would have recognised his late wife's handwriting everywhere. And the words had cut deeply. They weren't for him, but he felt as if he was meant to read them anyways - a reminder of sorts. He had failed his daughter, and as it had been many years ago, it took Colette's voice to show him just how badly. 

He shouldn't be the one to decide for her. He was blind to her feelings, to her hurt and her point of view. He refused to listen, stubbornly insisting he knew better what her heart honestly thought. 

Moe took a deep breath in and slowly released it, forcing his heart to slow down. He had managed to count to eight when he heard a commotion outside. He stood up with a frown and approached the window. 

The glass muffled the sounds, but he could clearly see Leroy running down the street, screaming something on repeat. Moe couldn't understand any of it, so he pulled at the handle to open the window just a little bit.

"-'s back! Gold's alive!"

Moe froze, his mind coming to a halt. Leroy was still screaming, but French didn't need to hear any of it anymore. The words rang in his head like a mantra. One question coming to the front the most.

How?

*

"I'm looking for a safe passage to England."

"Got any money, mate?"

Gold was tired. So tired it was getting harder and harder to even stand straight. He had spent the last three days roaming the airstrip and eating scraps, relying on other people's charity. This plane was the first one to head to England in as many days, and nobody was the wiser as to tell when would be the next one. 

The copilot was a young man with dark hair and slight stubble. Gold's silence and clenched teeth had given him the answer that he already suspected judging by the man's tattered appearance. 

"Look, we're already full. You'll have to wait for the next plane."

"Unless I have the money, right?"

His tone was bitter, but he couldn't help it. The fact that the other man smirked slightly at his words only made his blood boil more. He was hungry, hurt all over, and didn't remember the last time he bathed. 

"It's not me who makes the rules," the man shrugged his shoulders, not looking bothered in the slightest. "There are a lot of you folks waiting for a way back. I would gladly take all of you, but one can't buy a meal with good intentions."

Gold felt his stomach drop as the man turned his back and made his way back. His mind raced, and the conclusion was only one. He felt a lump form in his throat, and with a ragged breath, he forced himself not to break down. The burning feeling in his throat stayed.

"Wait!" The pilot half-turned and watched as Gold fumbled with the shirt collar. It took him two tries to undo the top two buttons with shaky fingers, but when he did, he pulled out a silver locket from under the shirt. With a pained expression, he removed it from around his neck. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to open it, but then he just squeezed his eyes shut and presented it to the man. "Will this do?"

The pilot took it, turning it in his palm back and forth, then moved it towards the light, before hiding it in his pocket.

"Wait here," he said.

Gold couldn't move even if he wanted. The physical pain from his various wounds didn't compare to what he was feeling inside but rendered him motionless just the same. He shivered with the cold as it seeped through his borrowed coat.

The copilot came back grinning. The sight only made Gold sicker.

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger."

Gold mounted the small ladder with difficulty and a bowed head. He felt as if he had just sold his own son.

*

Belle ran. She ran faster and harder than she had ever remembered running. Somewhere along the way she had removed her shoes - one of the hills had broken, there was no point in keeping the other one on. 

At first, she had thought Ruby's words a cruel joke. The massage she had been waiting for so long for when finally delivered felt an impossible thing. But it couldn't be - how else would Ruby know where to find her? Only one person aside from Belle knew about the spot beside the river. A person, who by all means had been declared dead by everybody but her. So there had been no other logical explanation from whom Ruby had learned the directions. 

Belle hadn't waited for Ruby to explain to her how exactly had it been possible, no. She had bolted, clutching the book in a death grip, so the photo and the dried rose wouldn't have fallen out. His bloodstained uniform jacket had been left behind. She hadn't thought about taking it with her, not when she could have a very much alive Roy. The jacket didn't matter now. 

So she ran. Her hair escaping from the pins that had held them together and wisping at her flushed face. 

She stumbled. 

Once. 

Twice.

It didn't matter. 

She needed to see him with her own eyes. Needed to touch him with her own hands. Held him, feel him breathe, hear him speak. Without it, she couldn't be sure if all of this wasn't a cruel dream. God knew she had enough of them.

So she ran.

And hoped.

*

He didn't know how, but he felt her before he saw her. As if something changed in the air and he felt like a moth flying towards the flame. She emerged from the fog that enveloped the street and lifted from his mind at the same time, looking dishevelled. The glimpse of her hair was enough for him to recognise her, and he was on his feet, eyes not leaving the only person that mattered to him at the moment, except his son.

He didn't hear Widow Lucas' worried exclaims, nor the sound of the chair falling. Gold was limping towards the door, throwing it open, the crutches lying forgotten by the table.

He stumbled, tripped once - twice - stumbled again. But kept moving.

When she spotted him, she began to run his way, her lips moving, forming his name. The closer they got to each other, the more details he could see. The tearstained face, the messed hair, wrinkled clothes - yet, she was the most beautiful picture he had ever seen.

An angel. Was she even real?

*

She saw him emerging from Granny's, his legs shaking with every step he had made. She ran quicker, uncaring of her own feet clad only in dirty, torn stockings. He looked real - hurt, weary and older than she had ever remembered him being, but alive.

Alive. Alive. _ALIVE!_

She saw him stumble and almost fall, and her heart leapt to her throat. 

She wouldn't let him fall.

Because he was real, wasn't he?

*

His leg had given up under him, folded like a cheap pocket knife, and a quick thought crossed his mind that he could rebreak it. Legs shouldn't make motions like that after all. But the idea had disappeared as quickly as it came because he could feel himself falling down, and his vision briefly wavered as black spots danced before his eyes. Was it all a dream? A dream he was now waking up from?

He would fall to the ground alone and jerk awake in a hospital bed...

*

She saw him wobble and then his right leg failing to support his weight any longer. Roy went down like a puppet with cut strings. A wild, irrational thought crossed her mind that as soon as he would touch the ground, he would disappear - swallowed whole by the paving and she would be left alone on the street, finally mad from grief. 

All of this - this whole day would be a dream. 

She couldn't let him fall and disappear, so she darted her hands forwards.

*

Like two waves merging into one, they crushed into each other. Limbs tangled, breathing ragged as if drowning they went down to their knees. Both holding tight, both afraid of what would have happened if either decided to let go. 

Belle's knees hit the ground with a painful thud as she took most of Gold's weight with her, but surprisingly she didn't feel any of it. Not when all she could think of was Roy being real and alive. Happiness and relief bloomed in her heart, ready to burst like a white, hot flame. It didn't matter that Gold looked like one step into the grave, to her he was the most beautiful sight she could think of seeing.

Belle's trembling fingers went to his face. Lingering, afraid to touch, just brushing against his stubbled cheek, then hesitantly tracing his cracked lips, nose, brows and moving over the ugly wound hidden in his hair. Gold watched her with wide eyes, fearful of looking away and not blinking. She was so terrified of never seeing those eyes again that a strangled, broken sob escaped her lips. 

"Roy..."

He pulled her hard against his chest, crushing her in an embrace, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Belle could feel his shoulders shaking, his ragged breathing against her hair, and she tightened her arms around him - telling him what he needed to know, without any words spoken aloud. 

When they pulled away together, it took them one look into each other's eyes for their lips to lock. Belle was the one who leaned in first, but Gold responded with force and desperation that told her everything she needed to know. She let him in, tasting the salt from their tears on his lips and tongue, knowing well enough he felt it too. She melted in his arms, twisted her fingers in his hair, loving the way it curled against her digits. 

He was real. Real and alive. Solid, sweaty and trembling, his heart beating wildly under her palm.

And so was she. Not a figment of his fevered mind, not a dream, or hallucination, but as real as she could be, her puls beating strong where he kept his palm on her neck. She moaned into his mouth, and he felt fresh tears gathering in his eyes. 

Finally, they broke the kiss panting hard, lips swollen and rested their foreheads against one another. 

"I knew you would find your way back home," she whispered, touching his lower lip with her thumb.

"Well, I promised, didn't I?" 

She smiled while hiccuping, that beautiful, brilliant smile he was so afraid to never see again, and he felt a grin spread on his own face. 

They didn't care about the people gathering on the street and watching them. All the residents of Storybrooke, their thoughts and prejudices didn't matter, not now.

The book with the photograph and dried rose lay open on the ground.

*

Gary Gaston felt sick with what he was seeing. Belle had never reacted to him in the same way she had just reacted to Gold, and that was simply impossible to think of. Couldn't she see how pathetic he looked like? Gary could easily break the man in half with his bare hands if he wanted. And oh, he really wanted to. He frowned instead as his hand curled into a fist.

Belle and Gold were still kneeling on the ground, oblivious to the attention they were getting. What the small, now crippled man had to offer that Gary hadn't? His hand jerked towards the waistband of his trousers where his gun was hidden. One shot was all that he needed - One clear shot. He could almost feel his fingers curling over the grip when someone caught his biceps. He almost jerked away, but forced himself to freeze instead, and turned towards the person who had stopped him. Moe French was looking closely at him. The old man usually was straightforward to read, but this time Gaston couldn't tell if Moe saw the gun beneath his shirt or not.

"Gary, my chap," he said. "would you mind helping me in the shop? There are some heavy boxes I simply cannot lift by myself."

Gary didn't answer right away. His eyes flickered towards the still kneeling couple, and he could see Moe doing the same. Something had flashed across the man's face that Gary didn't know how to interpret before he settled his gaze back on him.

"Now would be a good time, actually."

Gary made himself relax, the arm dropped to his side. 

"It would be my pleasure, Mr French."

He turned around, trying not to think too hard about the sweat that was running down under his collar. The gun felt heavy where it stayed hidden, tucked into his trousers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raus mit dem Geld, Krüppel! - Give us the money, Cripple  
> Ich will keinen Ärger - I don't won't any trouble  
> Das ist alles? Hältst du mich für blöde?! - That's all? You think me an idiot?!  
> Sehe ich aus wie ein betuchter Kerl? - Do I look like a guy with a lot of money?


	5. Chapter 4

The sun was slowly rising; it's first rays wading through the crack in the not wholly drown curtains, illuminating the slight frosting on the windows. The morning looked to be one of the more chilly ones. 

Gold stirred in bed and grimaced as a spasm went through his right leg. Yeah, definitely there was going to be a change in the weather. Warily, he rolled to the side and then slowly, while breathing through his nose, he sat up, his feet lightly touching the floorboards. Droplets of sweat appeared on his forehead from the effort, and he had to bit down on his tongue as he tried to massage the offensive limb. 

It hurt.

Throughout all this time since he had woken up in the hospital to today, it hurt. Sometimes the pain would be lesser, sometimes so great he could bearly get out of the bed, but it was always there. Lurking. Reminding. He was slowly beginning to learn how to live with it. 

Gold let out a shaky breath trying not to dwell on the fact that the mist it had created was clearly visible before his face. Today didn't look like to be one of the good days. Grimacing, he straightened up and pushed his thumb into the tightened knot of the scar tissue in his left shoulder. He worked it for a minute then rolled his arm twice. It would have to do.

With a trembling hand, he reached out for the crutch that rested against the nightstand. At least he could more or less move around with just one of them, now. It wasn't perfect, he thought as he hauled himself up, his right leg being now few inches shorter than the left, continued to be a challenge, but it would have to do. At least like this, he was letting his left shoulder to rest a little. He more or less made peace with the fact he would probably never be able to walk unaided ever again. He didn't have to enjoy it, though. And sometimes miracles did happen, right? Maybe somehow his leg wouldn't be as useless...

He limped to the closet, opening it and removing the clothes he would wear today - not that he had a big choice of garments: three shirts, three pairs of pants, two jackets. Still, it was more than he had when he had arrived back to Storybrooke. Gold risked a fleeting glance to the far right side of the closet. There, on one of the racks, hung his dress uniform. He had left it behind when they left - there had been no place for drees uniforms on the battlefield, and he didn't expect to see it again. To his surprise, Missus Lucas hadn't thrown it out. She had left it exactly where he had. 

Gold reached out towards the uniform but stopped himself only a breath away from touching the jacket when he caught his reflection it the closets' inner mirror. The hand jerked away as if burned. He hadn't tried the uniform on not once in the time he had been back. He couldn't bear the mental image of how it would look like on him, so he had thrown it as far into the closet as he could. Now, his reaction wasn't any better, and it didn't help that he would probably have to wear the thing on his hearing soon. He felt disgusted with the man he saw in the mirror - the thin, haggard, shadow of a person who he once been. Hands shaking, skin still sickly grey even after all this time.

The first days after he had come back felt somehow exalting. Drunk on the knowledge that he was home, that he and Belle could be together again, he didn't care about anything or anyone else. But later... Later the reality had come crushing in. Because how could Belle love someone like him? She was in love in an image of a man who had gone to war, not the one who had come back - the pitiful, old, crippled soldier that had trouble with getting up in the morning and tieing his own shoelaces. He had nothing to offer her - no name, no money, nothing valuable. Now more than ever before.

Gold shut the closet, the doors bouncing back open from the force and the sound of a falling hanger in their wake, then limped to the bathroom with his head down. Belle would soon realise her mistake - it was inevitable. He just hoped that somehow he would make sure she would be safe after that.

As he dressed, he didn't raise his head to look at his reflection again.

*

"What is this?"

Widow Lucas just look pointedly at him from above her half-moon spectacles.

"I would think, captain, that you didn't hurt your head so much as to not recognise room keys."

With her arms akimbo, she frowned at his still confused expression.

"I don't - "

"It's not charity," she cut in. "I'll throw you out as soon as I have someone for that room. Now, dinner's at seven."

Gold could only watch as, without further ado, the older woman turned on her heel and marched out of the door, leaving him no room for the argument. He looked down on the keys still grasped in his hands, willing himself to understand. Missus Lucas never had been his biggest fan, and yet in the matter of a couple of hours, she had fed him, offered him a place to stay, and planned to feed him again. It's not that he minded, he wasn't a fool to refuse any of it, but still, it just felt off. Gold wasn't used to this treatment, and he didn't know how to act. Well, one thing at a time probably. As bad as it felt to be apart from Belle right now, he knew she had to go home and change - her clothes had ruined in haste to get to him, but they promised each other to meet again in an hour.

With a sigh, Gold slowly limped to his room. He was too tired to notice that it had been the same number he had been staying before his deployment or to properly look around.

He meant only to sit on the bed for a moment, but the mattress was so soft, so different from what he got used to in the spam of the last months, that he didn't realise when his body tilted sideways. Gold had been asleep before his head hit the pillow, and for the first time, he didn't dream a thing.

He didn't wake up when a hand caressed his hair nor when someone removed his dirty, worn boots. But when he did, he found out a tray of food by his bed and a small note with Belle's signature at the bottom.

*

Limping on the normal ground was one thing, limping on snow was utterly another. Gold wasn't yet used to the way his feet slid on the slush, but every small misstep sent an unpleasant jolt all the way up to the hip. It had taken him twice the usual time to get to Marco's workshop, and by the time he did, he was chilled to the bone. It didn't look well for the rest of his day, and considering his appointment with dr Whale tomorrow, he wished the time could just jump forward. To the moment all the unpleasantries would be over preferably. Or when by some miracle he would be reunited with his son. Gold grimaced as his hand involuntarily went to his chest in the hope to find the lost locket there. How he was supposed to look for the boy when he bearly could find himself? 

Well, the day had just begun.

He was late, but Marco didn't seem to mind. With a small smile, he greeted the man and without any prompting set to work. The job wasn't ideal, but thanks to it he had at least some money to spent and give back if only a little bit of what he had owned Missus Lucas. And it wasn't as if there had been a flood of job offers for a man with a lame leg and almost no other work experience than soldiering. But he was good with repairing things, he had always been, so Marco had taken him in, even if temporarily so he could make the two ends meet. His military pension was still almost nonexistent as Whale was yet to issue his professional opinion that, yes, he would be unable to serve in the army ever again - he will probably do so at the hearing. Still, Gold didn't look forward to that. The military commission debating his case of being dead but not, and no - he hadn't deserted, thank you very much, had been postponed when the doctor ruled him unable to travel just yet. So yeah, Gold was hanging there like in a limbo - soldier but no, dead but alive, with as much money as to buy himself a pack of cigarettes and some bread. 

Pathetic - that what he was. 

Even now.

Gold sighed and threw the screwdriver to the side. He needed a smaller one, this would not do. He stood up from the bench to grab the toolbox from the higher shelf and was just curling his fingers around the handle when a sudden spasm wrecked his shoulder, doubling him over and making him bump his right knee painfully against the wood.

"Shit!" 

The box balanced on edge, but he couldn't care less as all his brain could focus on were the painful impulses, that made small dark spots dance before his eyes as he focused all his might to not to go down to the ground. He briefly thought about all the tools that would fall on his head from the toolbox, when a hand darted forwards in the corner of his eye, stopping the kit in its fall.

"Are you alright, captain?"

"Yeah, give me just a moment," he gritted out.

Marco nodded and removed the toolbox from the shelve then put it on the table. Gold focused on breathing through the pain with eyes screwed shut. 

Damn his shoulder. 

Damn his leg. 

Damn it all to hell!

"Captain?"

He cracked his eyes to see Marco standing before him with a glass of water. He took it silently, nodding his thanks and drunk hungrily. 

"I'm so-"

"Don't apologise," Marco smiled, taking the glass back. "It's not easy. I know."

Right. His son.

"Mr. Booth... Can I ask...?"

"August's arm?" Gold nodded once. "A shrapnel. He lost his hand first, but when the infection got in, they had to cut it off higher. I'm just happy to have my boy back, it doesn't matter that part of him is wood now."

Gold nodded again, unable to get any words out. He could understand that much as he would give up everything to have his son with him, whole or not. With that thought, he limped towards the table and took his time looking through the various tools in the kit before finally taking the correct screwdriver out.

They worked in silence for the next hours - Gold slowly and methodically assembling the wooden clock, Marco polishing the newly finished chair. It had been well into the afternoon when a small knock on the workshop door sounded. Both men raised their heads from the work to see a smiling Belle, shily peaking in.

"Miss French, do come in!" the older Booth beamed at the woman and approached her with wide-open arms.

"Marco, do you think I could borrow captain Gold for some time?" the man only smiled knowingly at her and turned towards the ex-soldier who was still seated by the worktable.

"I do believe we can call it a day, can't we, captain? It's already getting a lot chillier in here."

Marco watched as the man picked himself carefully up, cleaned his workplace and reached for the crutch that rested against the table. He did smile at Belle when she entered, but Marco was almost sure it didn't fully reach the man's eyes. He must have been mistaken though because when he limped, his expression was open and all focused on the woman in front of him.

"Did Missus Lucas sent you?" he asked arching an eyebrow.

"I'm taking full responsibility. Here," she handed him a pack of cigarettes with a cocky smile, and Marco watched as Gold's eyes winded.

"You're a lifesaver," he mused, taking the pack from her hand.

"Just know I still don't approve of that habit."

"I will kick the habit one day."

"I believe it when I see it," Belle climbed her toes and kissed Gold lightly on the lips with a soft smile, making Marco look to the side, abashed, not wanting to intrude. "Come on, captain, let's not embarrass Marco more than necessary."

"Good day, Mr Booth."

"And to you, captain."

As they walked out, Gold tried really hard not to focus on the way how his body betrayed him and leaned on Belle, putting some of his weight on her as they walked, arms entwined. Even though she didn't seem to mind or care, he wasn't sure could ever manage the same.

*

_Screams._

__

__

_Fire._

_Blood._

_He was drowning, no - screaming - Either of those two or both. Taloned hands clawed at his leg, tearing it onto shreds, reassembling it, shredding again._

_Did he scream?_

_A man spoke to him in German. And then another one in English. And he stood between them - lost and speechless, the iron smell of blood invading his nostrils. The two men grabbed him at the same time - the German his right arm, and English the left. They pulled, tearing him in half, and he could do nothing to stop them._

_A General stood in front of him, watching, taking notes, thanking him for what he did for the King and Country then nodding. Another man, looking suspiciously like Sargent Gaston, took his place, pistol drawn, aimed at his heart, telling him to go to hell. The gun fired, the bullet hit him point-blank in the chest._

_The English and German tore harder and dragged him exactly where he belonged - to hell._

Gold woke up panting, drenched in sweat and disoriented on the ground, his right leg spasming uncontrollably. The bedsheets were tangled around his ankles, restricting his movements, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. With a shaky hand, he touched his face feeling the dumb stains on his cheek. 

How many times would he have to wake like this? Why couldn't it just stop?

Mortified, he realised that his face wasn't the only wet thing. 

Gold banged his head against the floorboards, disgusted with himself and the fact that the tears just kept coming. 

Disgusted by the fact that every louder noise recently made him jump or startle. That he had flinched when Belle touched his arm the other day when he froze as a car got a flat with a loud bang in the middle of the street. Disgusted that he couldn't stop all those dreams from happening almost every night.

He was weak.

Belle would learn that and leave.

Because how a weakling like him could be loved? 

*

"Aren't you eating? It looks good."

"I'm not really hungry, sweetheart."

Belle worried her lower lip. Something was going on, but she couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was. They sat in Granny's farthest booth, away from the prying eyes of others. Roy didn't look so well - it was hard not to notice. Belle was almost sure it wasn't a recent thing, but it was hard to tell when the man had looked ill from the start, but before he at least had been eating.

There was no denying that Roy acted differently since he had come back, he was more withdrawn, smiled less, but he was still the same man Belle had fallen in love with, and her heart was breaking a little for him. She had asked him what had happened to him, but he refused to tell, said it was all in the past, unimportant. 

She began to believe more and more that it wasn't as unimportant as he had claimed. 

"Not even a bite?" she tried, cocking her head to the side, hopeful. 

Gold smiled tiredly. He swallowed, then moved his hand to grasp Belle's, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"OK. I'll eat some if you tell me about your day."

It couldn't be hard, could it?

Belle smiled so broadly that his heart clenched a little. He hated to worry her.

"The kids managed not to kill each other and actually listened to what I was talking, so I count the day as a success," she answered, and he chuckled taking a fry into his mouth. 

"Well, they have a good teacher, so it's no wonder."

"Oh, hush you," she laughed, and his mouth twitched.

He loved to hear her laugh.

"I told you it'll get better. No one's the best at anything on their first day."

He listened closely as she described the school life and managed to eat almost all the fries from his plate by the time she had finished - a small success, but always some. Yet he doubted he would be able to eat anything more, he tempted fate as it was, hoping that what he had managed to get stuffed himself with would stay down. 

He pushed the plate to the side, pretending not to see how Belle's eyes traced after it.

"And how's your father?" he asked, hoping to pull her attention away from his eating. Belle sighed.

"He still spends an obscene amount of time with Gary. I don't know why, but it almost seems as if he invents jobs just to keep him around."

"Well, it's good that you no longer have to work in the flower shop, then," he concluded while taking a sip of coffee, wincing as it burned the tip of his tongue.

"Yes," she propped herself on the table, stealing the fry from his abounded plate as to remain him that she knew very well what he was doing. "If only it could be so easy. How's the clock making?"

"Slow," he admitted. "But almost done. Should be ready for sale within a week."

"Hmm, I may consider buying it." He shot her a look, and her smile winded. "What? We could use a new clock in the living room."

Gold shook his head fondly and looked to the side, suddenly feeling lost. He understood what Belle was doing, but it didn't help how difficult it sometimes was to accept her help. It shouldn't be like that - her buying something of his. He should be able to give her anything she would have wanted not the other way around.

"Roy?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me to go with you to dr Whale?"

"Nah," he squeezed her hand reassuringly and tried to smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's just a check-up. No need for you to worry."

"And the hearing? You're still sure about that too?"

He freed his hand from hers and raised it to her cheek. Stroking it fondly, he leaned over the table and without asking what he wanted to do, Belle did the same. Gold kissed her gently then bumped her nose with his.

"It's just a formality, not a court-martial. No need for you to trouble yourself over there. It's alright."

"It's not a trouble," she searched his eyes, for what he didn't know, but then kissed him again and touched his face. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course," He leaned into her hand, hoping the look on his face was convincing enough. "I love you too."

As he kissed her palm, he wondered for how long her words would stay true if she knew what a weak coward he was. Because he was a coward, wasn't he?

If he wasn't, he wouldn't be so afraid she would have left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs Gold*


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have listened to too much Evanescence while writing this chapter. So yeah, listen to "Bring Me to Life".

Just one drop.

It wouldn't hurt, would it?

It had been years since he touched as much as that. Besides he wasn't his father... Malcolm Gold could have died in a ditch on the side of the road cursing the day his son was born, drunk out of his mind, but Roy wasn't the same. The fact that he almost had ended in a similar way when Milah had taken away his boy was a just a lapse of judgment. 

Yes, he had promised after that day never to touch the stuff again, but would it really be that bad if he did?

One drop.

Maybe a glass.

It shouldn't hurt...

*

"Dad, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Flower. What is it?"

"Do you think there is something wrong with Roy?"

"Who?"

"Captain Gold."

"Oh."

The day was surprisingly sunny, even if the temperature left much to be desired. Moe had never liked days like this - his arthritis liked to remind him all too often why not - but it had turned out this day would be more complicated than the usual one.

They had managed to avoid the topic of Belle's heart matters pretty well for all this time that Gold had been back. His daughter looked a lot healthier and got a job at school as an English teacher. She was blooming, and Moe felt a lot better himself because of that, and if she had sometimes looked troubled or tired? Well, her new post had more than likely had been the cause. 

It turned out that it wasn't as true as Moe had thought. 

Up to this moment, Belle had been quiet all morning. Even now, she still wasn't looking at him, opting to play around with the food on the plate - she usually wasn't the one to do things like that, with the food spare as it was, but today something was definitely bothering her. 

He didn't even realise what the man's name was, for pitty's sake.

" - ems off. Did you noticed something?"

"Hmm?" Oh. She was talking to him. Damn. Right - captain Gold faring somewhat under the weather. "Did you, ah, did you talk to him?" 

That was the right kind of question, wasn't it?

He could do this. He could be the supportive father and play a part in his daughter's relationship. He had always wanted that, so why did he feel so uncomfortable right now?

"He says he's fine. He doesn't look it, though. Tell me I'm not the only one seeing this?"

Belle was looking at him with those big eyes of hers - her mother's eyes, and he shifted awkwardly on the chair. Truth be told, he had been avoiding Gold as much as he could. It was better that way - no conflict could arise when the parties concerned didn't see each other face to face. Maybe it was a coward's way out, but Moe really considered his efforts to keep Gary away from the pair as much as he could, the best help he could provide. 

Not enough, it had seemed. 

Moe took a sip of coffee - it grew cold, leaving the bitter taste on his tongue, and it took all his willpower not to cringe - as he tried to come up with a right answer.

"Doesn't he have a hearing or something?"

Belle nodded.

"He said not to worry about it."

"Well, maybe he's right, then."

Belle didn't look convinced, and he sighed. He wasn't good at these things. Giving advise to a teenaged daughter about a boy she had a crush on at school would be one thing, advising a woman in love with a much older ex-military who had come back injured from the war? A whole different matter that he wasn't so sure he had signed on. Not for the first time, he thought that his late wife would be so much better at all of this.

Belle looked troubled, and he had learned the hard way that his daughter usually was right in matters concerning feelings, but what he was supposed to say?

"I didn't always tell everything to your mother," he sighed, focusing his eyes on the toast, but he could see Belle looking up at him from the corner of his eye. "I didn't want to worry her unnecessarily, but she always seemed to know."

He spread the butter over the toast, lost in memories.

"But your mother was stubborn. And more often than not liked to remind me what a fool I was. Not only with words mind you - oh she did enough of that, but the support... yes, that was what mattered."

He took a bite of the toast, unable to stop crumbs from falling onto the table. Moe risked a glance at his daughter, finding her thinking hard. A crease between her brow reminded him so much of Colette that he couldn't help but smile sadly.

"Why would you do it? Why not tell mum about your worries?" Belle asked, meeting his eyes.

Moe shrugged.

"I thought I could handle it. That it was my role - not to worry her, that is."

"It sounds stupid."

Moe smiled and jabbed a finger at his daughter.

"Can't blame you there."

Belle giggled, but soon it turned into a fond smile.

"Thanks, Papa."

He smiled back. Maybe there was some hope left for him as a father after all.

*

"So, Captain. Anything more besides the usual you what me to know before we head in there?"

Gold swallowed, trying to stand as straight as possible. The big oaken door was the only thing separating him from the final and irrevocable decision about the rest of his life. To say he was feeling nervous was an underestimation. 

Clad in his old dress uniform, he felt exposed, weak even, the garment hanging on him loosely as if borrowed. But it was his. And it had fit him perfectly before, but now he had been forced to make two additional holes in the belt just to fasten it properly and to look somewhat like a person and not a coat rack. A caricature, that what he was.

"Captain?" Doctor Whale cleared his throat and Gold startled.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I've asked if there was anything I need to know before the hearing. Any changes in sleep? Pain levels?"

_Nightmares._  
_Not being able to eat properly._  
_Sensitivity to loud, sudden sounds._  
_Should I go on?_

"No."

Whale nodded.

"On we go, then."

He didn't remember much from the hearing. Even years after that, it had all been a blur. He remembered saying that yes, there had been statements of the soldiers who had found him. No, he didn't know where his ID disks where. Yes, he had the doctor records for how long he had stayed in the hospital. No, he didn't know he had been reported dead in action.

An endless string of questions he answered one after the other, soon blending together as the hours went by. What he did remember, though, was that they made him stand for most of the time. And stand he did, back straight, gaze focused forwards, pain shooting through his leg, demanding him to sit. He had not. Biting the inside of his cheek, he had stood like a good soldier he was - for something that was supposed to be just a hearing it sure as hell had reminded a trial quite a lot.

But no, it hadn't been anything from above that had made him crumble. It had been something else.

*

She couldn't find him. 

It had been hours since he should have been back and they had agreed to meet at Granny's. Even though he'd said that the hearing was supposed to just a formality, Belle couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It lingered under her skin all this time as she was waiting anxiously, but there still wasn't any sign of Roy. She fidgeted with the small napkin and could see Ruby was shooting her worried glances time and time again. As soon as some of the crowd had cleared, Belle made her way towards her friend.

"Are you sure you hadn't seen him?" 

Ruby shook her head. "Whale dropped him off. If you didn't tell me otherwise, I would still think he was in his room."

"He's not there..."

"Maybe he's asleep?"

"No. I knocked, but he didn't answer, and he's not a light sleeper."

"Well, we do have a spare key -"

"Ruby! I won't break into his room!"

"Why? You're worried, aren't you? He would understand."

Belle bit on her lower lip worriedly. Anyone else would think she was exaggerating, but not Ruby. She had confided her worries about Roy, and she had promised to keep an eye out in case something happened. Not even for a moment, her friend doubted her judgement.  
At first, Belle had tried to rationalise the whole situation. Roy had probably felt exhausted after the hearing and dropped dead sleeping. Nothing wrong could have happened...

The weird feeling in her stomach prevailed, though and now Belle felt as if it was eating her whole, slowly creeping up, making her a nervous wreck. But no matter how bad she was feeling, she couldn't break Roy's privacy and trust. 

She shook her head.

"I'll wait. Maybe you're right, and he's just asleep."

Ruby looked doubtful but nodded. There were only two other people left in the diner still enjoying their food. It was late, not long till the closing hour. 

"Look, as soon as these folks are out, I'll go and look around, OK?" Ruby waited for Belle's reaction, and when she got it, she squeezed her friend's shoulder. "It's going to be fine."

Her reassurance didn't seem to do much, but Belle smiled nevertheless before looking out of the window. Ruby sighed. Well, time to get those two people out of the diner sooner rather than later.

With that, she walked towards their table.

*

_Thus I conclude captain Roy Gold unfit for active duty. The wounds he had sustained render him permanently disabled, thus I sustain my previous professional opinion to have him put on medical retirement from this day on. Indefinitely._

He would never walk normally ever again.

The hearing in his right ear would, in all probability, never be back to normal.

A medical pension and a shake of a hand together with a date of a future military commission he was supposed to attend to sign in his resignation were all he could get from the army. He had known why he was presumed dead, who had been responsible for all of that, but he didn't have enough proof, so all he could have done was nod and thank. 

And so he had thrown his uniform jacket as far away into the corner of his room as he could, discarded the tie and limped out in an old-faded waistcoat thrown over his olive shirt. He slipped out through the back door and moved straight to the Rabit Hole.

Roy had known it had been a mistake after he had drunk his first glass, but he'd let his mind have the second one before he'd pushed away from the bar. 

It had been a mistake.

That first glass.

And then, the second one.

And the third.

The sour taste of the alcohol did nothing for his broken self, on the contrary. Because the moment he'd touched that glass, he'd been no better than Malcolm Gold - the man who had been a master of empty promises. Roy had promised not to touch a drop of alcohol, yet he had broken that promise. Again. And with that, he was no better than his father.

The bastard had been right, after all, Gold thought as he leaned on the brick wall - once a disappointment, always one.

"Look what the cat had drugged in."

Gold closed his eyes briefly, cursing inwardly. Maybe getting out using the side exit hadn't been the most brilliant idea after all.

"If you're looking for money, then I would be sorry to disappoint you," he answered as he turned around.

His accent was thicker and speech a little bit slurred due to the alcohol, but he didn't think the two men standing in the mouth of the alley had noticed. In his honest opinion, they didn't look that much soberer than him.

The one to the left moved a step, the light from the nearby lantern illuminating his face and Gold almost grimaced.

Keith Nottingham. 

"Oh, believe me, Roy-boy, I would know better than to accuse you of having any," the man smirked, and his companion sniggered. What was his name? Hal -something. "Not so scary now, are you?"

Gold tightened the grip on his crutch. There had been only one person who had ever dare to call him by that nickname, and he had been dead for years as was the name. 

He didn't know why he did what he did next.

Maybe it was due to the alcohol in his blood.

Maybe it was because he was so sick of feeling how he did.

Or maybe it hadn't been any of those things, but the sudden urge to hit something and Nottingham and his buddy were right there.

"Why don't you come and find out?"

All in all, he didn't last long. There had been no possible way he could stand a chance with two, larger than him men. Well, once upon a time he would have, now he did almost no better than that time in Germany when he had been set upon by three kids. 

Oh, but this time he did manage to land few, solid punches and even use the crutch as a makeshift weapon before they forced him to the ground, and boy did it felt therapeutic. 

The kick to his head and stomach felt less so, but it seemed the men had grown bored of kicking him sooner than he had assumed they would. Nottingham was standing over him, breathing hard from the effort and even in the state he was now, Gold couldn't help but smirk, the trickle of blood leaving the corner of his mouth.

"Tired already?"

Nottingham snarled and twisted his hand in Roy's shirt, pulling him roughly up, bringing their faces close. Gold vision swayed, but he didn't flinch when spit hit his face, nor when the smell of alcohol hit his nostrils.

"One day Gary will get that girl of yours, and when he gets tired of her, I'll have my way with her," Nottingham spat. "And you won't be able to do a thing to stop either of us. You know why? Because you're an old, weak, cripple. Maybe I'll hand her over - "

Gold saw red. Not because of what Nottingham had called him, but because of what he had said about Belle. And just like that, without warning, he tilted his head backwards and brought his forehead hard to Kith's face with a crushing force.

Something cracked, Nottingham screamed and pushed Gold roughy back. Roy didn't feel the impact with the ground - his mind too focused on the stars he saw before his eyes and the fact that his vision was definitely doubled now because there had been two men hitting him and not four.

He might have been mistaken, but he thought he could hear someone screaming down the street.

The other man pulled Keith away from Gold, but not before stamping on his injured leg, making him howl in pain. He didn't see but heard the sound of cracking wood, and then two halves of his now broken crutch landed near his head.

"Have fun getting up now."

They ran away from the alley, leaving him breathless on the ground, hating every fibre of his being, willing his leg to stop hurting even if for a second.

Damn it.

He tried to shift the offensive limb. Slightly, not much - more of a twitch than a move, but found himself hitting his head on the pavement when his back arched from the pain.

_Fuck!_

"Captain Gold?" there were hands on his shoulders, holding him down. Not firmly - enough to restrain him, but uncertain as to if too afraid to touch him. Small hands. 

"Just a second," he grunted out, still not opening his eyes.

"I'll get help - "

"No!" His hand shot out catching the other person by the arm, stoping them. He cracked his eyes open with a groan to see Ruby Lucas kneeling beside him, half-turned to get up, her eyes wide. "No," he repeated gentler but tightening his hold. "I'll be fine, miss Lucas. Just - Just don't." 

He hated how pathetic he had sounded - his voice a little slurred and all, but there was nothing he could do about it. Miss Lucas frowned but nodded and settled beside him, which made him relax slightly.

"You don't look it."

"Pardon?"

She smiled at that. 

"Fine - You most certainly don't look like it."

"Temporary impairment."

"Sure."

She sat back next to him silently, even if clearly nervous from the way she kept glancing his way, but he was grateful that she didn't speak. Even in the low light, she could see his face, and he wasn't a fool to assume she hadn't heard him cry out when the other guy trampled on his leg.

But she stayed silent.

"You should report it," she finally broke, and he sighed.

"What's the point? A drunken scuffle nothing more."

"That's not how it looked like."

Gold tried to shift to a sitting position but tilted sideways. He was ready to hit the ground again when he collided with what unmistakeably was Ruby's chest as she caught him by the shoulders.

"We need to get you to a doctor," she worried.

"No hospitals," he slurred, and Ruby sighed. How was she supposed to get him anywhere from here?

He really should see a doctor - no matter what he had claimed, he wasn't fine. But he looked so miserable, and Ruby could partly understand why he didn't want to go anywhere near a hospital.

She made up her mind even though she didn't like the decision one a bit.

"The Diner then."

"The bastards had gotten away," Ruby heaved a sigh of relieve when she heard August's voice. Gold's head jerked up in surprise, his eyes widening when recognising the man in front of him. 

Ruby grimaced. Considered how out of it the captain had seemed earlier, it was no wonder he hadn't noticed that initially, Ruby hadn't been alone. August had agreed to help her look around for Gold without asking any further questions as to why - just taken his jacket off the rack and come with her. When they had heard the scuffle in the alley, he had taken off after the two men in an instant as Ruby had run to Gold's side. Now the younger man approached them, not commenting on how miserable the captain looked, but looked to the side grimacing slightly.

Ruby followed his gaze and looked in dismay to the remains of Gold's crutch. The two halves mocked her from the ground as if wanting to see how she would manage to haul the half-drunk, half-beaten captain to his room. 

_Well, just watch you stupid, wooden thing._

August nodded to her and silently went to Gold's other side, swinging the man's arm over his shoulders and supporting his back with his right arm, the prosthetic left one swinging uselessly.

"Come on, Captain Gold, sir," he murmured. "Up we go. On Three - One. Two. Three!" 

Ruby did her best to support the captain's other side, and together they hoisted him up. To his credit, he didn't cry out - Ruby was more than sure she would have in his place, and it was both terrifying and astonishing. He also wasn't just as heavy as she had thought he would be. Maybe Belle was right, that something was up with him.

Well, something definitely was. In all his time in town, Ruby hadn't seen the man to touch as much as a drop of alcohol, but today he certainly had drunk more than that. The scuffle was the least of her worries it seemed. The man looked utterly defeated, and it wasn't due to the now dried blood on his face.

"I'm not your commanding officer, Sargent Booth," Gold winced as they stumbled. The remark lacked any grudge, though and August smirked.

"Doesn't matter, sir," he answered, correcting his hold on the man. "Just focus on walking."

Slowly they made their way to Grany's through the deserted streets. The time was late enough to other residents to close themselves at their homes, and Ruby was grateful for that. It wouldn't do for Gold to be seen in such a state.

"Miss Lucas?"

"Still here," she panted focused on putting one foot in front of another. A drunk Gold would be challenging to steer with two functioning legs, but as he didn't have them, she needed to focus.

"Don't call Belle."

"I won't."

It wasn't a lie. Her friend was still waiting at Granny's.

*

Belle didn't say a word. Not when Ruby and August all but stumbled into the diner supporting - or more like dragging - half-dead Roy with her. She only made eye contact with August, who nodded in her direction and slipped aside, making room for her to take his place at Roy's side. She thanked him silently, and he smiled before walking out.

She had caught Ruby's gaze over Roy's bowed head more than once, but she shook her head. They would talk later - now there were more pressure matters to attend to, like making sure Roy was alright. 

He didn't look it. Not in the slightest. There were dried blood trays all over his face, and his right eye had already started to swell. He was also more or less putting his whole weight on both Ruby and her as he stumbled every time his right leg touched the ground. And yeah, the unmistakable smell of alcohol was really the least of her worries right now, but she knew that whatever had Roy reaching for the bottle had to be serious. He would have never touched the stuff on a normal day, not after what it meant in his life.

Belle wanted to scream. Not at him. Never at him, but just scream at how unfair the whole situation was. Roy didn't deserve it - they hadn't deserved it. Why fate had to be so cruel? Why couldn't they just a catch a break? Because now more than ever she was sure that there was something wrong with Roy. Or more likely, it never had been right since he had come back. 

When Ruby had dragged him in, his eyes had locked with Belle's, and she had watched as they winded before he had dropped his gaze to the floor and had never lifted it since. But that second had been enough and Belle didn't like what she had seen in those wonderful brown pools of his.

As he had noticed her, a brief flash of fear and shame had flickered in his gaze. There should have never been any of those emotions in them.

But she didn't say a thing.

Because she still couldn't find the right words.

"Ruby, could you bring us some clean towels, please? And hot water?" She asked as they helped Roy to his bed and her friend left, squeezing her shoulder as she passed her.

Roy still hadn't looked up.

He sat on the bed dirty and bloodied, his shoulders hunched as if he tried to make himself smaller than he already was. Belle kneeled before him and tried to catch his gaze but failed. She didn't know what to say, her throat felt suddenly very tight, and she had to swallow in an attempt to get rid of it. 

It didn't work.

"Who did this?" She asked gently, her hand squeezing his knee. He shook his head in response. "Roy - "

Ruby barged in with the supplies and Belle closed her mouth. She would wait till they were alone to speak. 

She thanked her friend with a nod, and she smiled weakly in her direction before leaving them, closing the door firmly shut.

Belle wetted the towel in the bowl mentally thanking Ruby when she spotted the bottle of antiseptic and fresh gauze with bandages. The supplies were still short, and she didn't dare to ask for them, but it seemed her friend had a mind of her own. She would have to make it up to her latter as she wetted the gauze.

"It may sting," she faintly said as she approached Roy.

He looked up at that, his eyes sad and unfocused and it took all her willpower just not to throw her hands around his neck and hug him close. Now was not the time, though.

"You don't have to - "

"But I want to," she interrupted. "Please?"

He nodded but looked away as she kneeled back before him.

She cleaned his face in silence, cataloguing the cuts and abrasions. It was more than obvious that he had been in a fight, a simple tumble to the ground wouldn't have left such damage. Belle wanted to throttle whoever had done to him, and a big part of her hoped that Roy had at least managed to land a hit once. It would serve them well.

He flinched when she dabbed at a deeper cut, and she hesitated only for a moment before resuming her treatment. Somehow, she had a feeling that the pained expression and stiff posture, weren't from his wounds, but the fact that she was the one touching him.

When had it all become so messed up?

And then, when she moved her fingers to undone the buttons of his waistcoat, he stopped her hand.

"Go home, Belle," he whispered.

"Why?"

He squeezed her hand as if trying to reassure her that it was alright, but she knew it wasn't. None of this was.

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself anymore. It's late," His accent was thicker than usual. To some, it might have been hard to understand, but she was too used to it. 

Belle frowned.

"Do you think I could leave you right now?"

"It's late," he repeated if that was the best excuse for her.

She hunched back on her heels, letting go of the button she was holding.

_"You don't need to wait for me. I won't hold it against you."_  
_"Why shouldn't I?"_  
_"You deserve a lot more than to worry about the likes of me."_

It was like that day on the riverbank again, and something inside Belle cracked. 

"Roy... " She moved from the hard floor to sit beside him on the bed, taking his hands in his and squeezing, willing him to understand the most obvious thing for her, yet what seemed to be inconceivable for him. "I won't leave. Not now, and not ever, why can't you believe it?"

"Everyone else does," he murmured, and she ran her fingers through his hair, moving it behind his ear. He still didn't cut it.

"Well, we once established I'm not everyone else."

He smiled - more a flicker in the corner of his mouth, but still a smile. 

"No. You're not," he admitted quietly. "Thank heavens for that."

"If you don't want me to check you, I can get somebody else - "

"No!" He tightened his fists, looking down, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Belle ran her fingers over his knuckles, trying not to touch the cracked skin. "No, It's just - You don't need to - You may not... like it," he finished bearly hiding a flinch, his breathing harsh.

"Like what?"

"What you'll see."

Oh. 

Without a word, she reached out to his face, turning it in her direction, tracing his stubbled cheek with her thumb. He parted his lips to say something but stopped when he saw her soft, open expression.

"I've fallen in love with Roy Gold," she started. "With his witty sense of humour, sharp mind, compassionate soul and the infinite amount of love he was hiding. Not his body," she smiled faintly, her eyes sad as she remembered the days she had been crying on the riverbank. "You could have come back with just one arm or none at all, and I would still think you the most beautiful man I have ever seen."

"I'm not sure I'm that Roy Gold."

"Oh, you are."

He didn't answer, and she didn't press him more but waited patiently, her hand moving to massage his nape. 

With a shaky breath and trembling fingers, he finally removed his waistcoat. She didn't interrupt him, nor when he undid the buttons of his shirt one by one. He didn't say anything, but she noticed how stricken he looked, her eyes briefly flashed towards the crumpled uniform jacket lying in the corner. When Roy moved to pull the shirt over his head but winced, and Belle stopped him in his movements, pushing the thoughts about the uniform to the side.

"Here, Let me help."

This time he didn't protest. 

She tried to look without staring. Focused all her will not to dwell on or react to what she saw. Not to let her eyes stay for too long in one place. But there were burn marks on his right side, that hadn't been there before, a star-shaped scar mocking her from his left shoulder with its spidery webs. And then there were his ribs. Roy had never been a muscular type, leaning more towards slim but right now she was almost able to trace the outline of every one of them, and she wondered if he was doing something with his clothes to hide the changes from her.

And she did hesitate before touching him. Bearly a second but it was enough for him to notice.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. 

"What for?"

"This."

"This?" She asked and laid her palm on the burn marks. "And This?" Her other palm touched the gunshot wound, and she felt more than heard his breath hitch." Are the proof that you survived."

She wanted him to understand. Needed him to, but he seemed too lost in his head still to notice. Belle so desperately wanted to know what had happened today to throw him off so profoundly. She knew it had started a lot earlier than the hearing - she was naive to think that all would be just as it had been when he had come back. One didn't return from war looking like that to be perfectly well afterwards. But she wasn't stupid. Belle had known what she had been signing on when she had promised to wait for him. 

She just wished he didn't believe so much that he had to carry this burden all alone. 

Belle squeezed his shoulder and moved to check his ribs whether they were broken or not, but it seemed that apart from the already starting bruising, he was fine. She wrapped his torso just in case - it would help him to breathe easier after all. After that, there was only one issue left - his leg. And she hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek.

He had limped a lot harder than normally, and she knew she should make him let her check that too, but that was something else eternally than letting her see him shirtless. Ever since he returned, she had noticed he had been avoiding the topic of his leg like a plague. She suspected it was hurting more often than not, but he refused to talk about it and winced jerking away every time that she had accidentally brushed against it.

Thet would have to cross that bridge, she needed him to understand that she didn't mind his impairment at all, but somehow she thought today wouldn't be the best way to start on that.

She felt really useless right now.

"Roy?" He hesitantly raised his gaze to meet hers. "Do you want me to see to your leg?"

He winced, and she wasn't surprised that he did.

"I can move it, it's fine," he said finally, and she knew she wouldn't get more out of him. 

His hand absently moved towards his neck, grasping at empty air. Not for the first time, she had wondered where his locket had gone, but when she had asked him once he just answered that he had lost it. 

She smiled tightly and nodded.

"You need to sleep. Come on."

He jerked surprised when she took his hand.

"Belle - "

"Oh, hush. It's not like we hadn't slept together before," she almost giggled at the confused expression on his face. "It's just sleeping, Roy."

"But your father - "

"Ruby will cover for us. Don't worry." She kissed him lightly on the lips, sealing her resolve.

He didn't argue more - looked too tired and hurting to do it anyway, bearly managing to remove his shoes and not to fall flat on his face in the process. Roy slowly lowered himself down, but even after closing his eyes, he still looked too stiff to Belle's likening.

It didn't take long for her to crawl over to him, hugging him close as she buried her face in his arm.

It's been too long since they laid like that.

Belle just wished the circumstances had been better.

*

And somewhere far beyond and deep in Gold's subconscious, one of the petals twitched on the ground but didn't make it up to the stalk just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to have the next chapter in the next 2-3 weeks. I'm back for my final year at Uni now, so we'll see how it goes. Let's hope I won't keep anybody waiting for too long!


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter: Human - Rag'n'Bone Man

There was something soothing in the sewing process - watching as the needle went up and down, puncturing the material time and time again. 

Down. 

It weaved the black thread, bringing two parts closer together up to the moment when they finally become one.

Up.

It slipped through a small loop forming a knot so the stitch wouldn't break.

All done.

Belle pulled hard, then bent down to bit on the thread, snapping it close to the knot, then admired her handiwork. At first glance, it was almost impossible to notice the changes, and she nodded to herself, proud. 

Silently she stood up and approached the closet, making sure not to step on any of the loose boards. It was easy even in the low light - she had their place memorised long time ago. The floor hadn't squeaked, but the closet door did precisely that when she tried to open them.

Jumping slightly, she turned her head to the left, freezing in her movements, watching closely. Roy stirred on the bed but didn't wake up, and she let a breath that she didn't realise she was holding.

Cautiously, she put the jacket back on its hanger - the one closer to the wall - arranging it just as it had been before. It would not do if Roy caught her small scheme after all the trouble she had went with checking which of his garments he had tempered with and which he hadn't.

With a small smile, she carefully closed the door and on her tiptoes returned to bed, curling beside Roy.

*

It was long after the sunrise, but Gold still didn't know what to think. Waking up next to Belle in bed had been both bizarre and wonderful, but on top of it confusing. 

When he had finally opened his eyes - an achievement on itself, considering they felt so heavy as if someone had glued them together - his head had been pounding so hard he had thought he might have thrown up any minute. That or because of the images that had been still fresh in his mind from the dream. Gold had been surprised he didn't find himself on the floor nor twisted in the bedsheets, and it took him a moment to realise just why. The mattress to his left had shifted, and he turned his head to find himself looking at Belle's blue eyes. 

His lips parted in surprise.

"Good morning," she whispered, smiling slightly at his astonished look. Even with the swelled right eye, he still looked at least ten years younger with the way his hair was all tussled up and sticking in every direction. "How are you feeling?"

Gold groaned and hesitantly covered his face with his arm, wincing as it made contact with the bruising.

"As if a tank ran me down," he grumbled.

He stiffened when he felt a hand touch his hair before remembering that it was Belle's and not anybody else, cursing his reaction. He relaxed almost immediately, but she seemed to notice as the movement faltered for a second.

"Roy?"

"Hmm?" He still hadn't looked from under his arm.

"How much from yesterday do you remember?"

"Not much," _Lair_. He glanced from under his elbow. "Please tell me I didn't drag you to bed with me."

"I dragged myself if you insist on knowing," she answered his try at sidestepping the topic with a smile, but somehow he could tell she knew he hadn't told the truth.

He smiled slightly and grabbed her hand then brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. Roy more felt than saw Belle got closer to him and instinctively lifted his arm, letting her rest her head on his chest as he unconsciously started running small circles with his thumb over her shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Belle's voice sounded small and muffled by his shirt, but it wasn't hard to hear it. He couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut, though, tightening his hold on her shoulder at the same time.

"I'm f - "

"Please don't," she interrupted him lifting her head to look at him. "Please don't lie to me saying you're fine."

Silence.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Just... You're not alone in it."

He knew it to be the wrong decision. He was stalling or drawing attention from the problem at hand, but instead of answering honestly or staying silent, he twisted just enough to line his face with Belle's and crushed his lips against hers, hard. He could feel his body protesting, from the pain in his ribs to the way his split lip stung at the contact. But he didn't know what else to do, and he wanted to feel normal again so much it hurt a lot more than any of his physical wounds ever could.

When his kiss was rough and desperate, Belle's was soft and gentle. She kissed him back only after a second of surprise, but she didn't let it become messy on painful. He didn't stop when a spasm wrecked his calf, nor when his head began to feel as if someone had dropped an anvil on it.  
He wanted to get lost in the feeling of having Belle in his arms, distract himself from everything that was going on, and she let him. Even if for only a little bit, because when she felt more than heard as he tried once again to stifle the hiss of pain, she gently put a hand on his chest. She didn't push him away, only put a little more pressure on it than just a normal touch, but it had the same effect. 

Roy rested his forehead against hers, panting slightly, the small droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered still not opening his eyes.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," she answered, tracing his stubbled cheek.

Gold laid back down with a sigh.

"Sorry for ruining in the morning."

"How about I'll go downstairs and bring us something back to eat, hmm?"

"Paracetamol?" He risked a look at her, bearly opening his eyes.

"Not the most healthy breakfast, but a good appetiser," she smiled, brushing his hear behind his ear.

Belle freed herself from his arms and swung her feet from the bed. She looked around for her shoes, finding them hidden almost fully under the bed. She must have kicked them there accidentally when she had gotten back to bed during the night.

Gold watched her from his spot on the bed, as she got ready and it took a couple of long minutes for his brain to finally catch up on what exactly he had found so weird about Belle's appearance. Still, when it had finally clicked, his eyes winded a little as his throat tightened.

She was wearing one of his shirts. 

More than that - she had looked so natural in it that at first, his brain had thought it to be the most natural of things. He didn't know why seeing Belle in his clothes made him feel so emotional. Maybe it was because it looked like she didn't find them repelling and him by extension - the fact she had stayed a night with him when he had looked and acted like a total waste of air should be an indication enough, but somehow seeing her now made it more real.

He cleared his throat, willing the tightness to go away.

"You know, missus Lucas will skin me alive when she sees you?"

She turned around confused then giggled as she realised he was talking about the shirt and the time of the day.

"She likes you so she won't."

"I don't think we're talking about the same missus Lucas."

Belle rounded the bed and kissed him lightly, mindful of the broken lip.

"She will have to get through me first."

*

Widow Lucas wiped her hands on the apron, looking around the diner. It was a quiet morning with only a handful of people occupying the tables, nursing cups of coffee before the work. She nodded to herself, knowing the place would be empty in about twenty minutes or so and she would be able to do what she had set her mind to the moment she had seen her only tenant limp in from the back door.

She busied herself with cleaning the dishes until then nodding her goodbyes to the ones who had finished their meals and went on their way. Truth be told she hadn't seen Gold around for a couple of days. The first time had been only yesterday, and it only served as proving her suspicions that something had happened. He hadn't gone to work ever since the hearing - that Booth boy had brought some smaller works for the man over without giving away much information, and Ruby had insisted on carrying the meals for the Captain when Belle had been absent. Oh, and speaking of the young miss French, Widow Lucas hadn't been blind nor stupid not to see her sneaking around the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning that past couple of days. Also, her granddaughter, not being the subtle type, was more than enough for her to more or less seal her suspicions. 

Gold didn't look good - not now, and not yesterday - and she didn't want to know how he did look like on the day that something had happened seeing the still lingering results. On both occasions, the man had seated himself in the farthest booth, away from the prying eyes, but the weak light wasn't enough to hide the bruises on his face or the knuckles. 

It was more than apparent that he had been in the fight and lost it. The only consolation was that just two days ago widow Lucas had seen Keith Nottingham sneaking around the back alley with what clearly looked like a broken nose. Connecting the dots hadn't been hard after that.

When the last of the costumers had nodded his goodbyes, she riched under the counter. 

*

He rolled up the leg of his trousers, wincing and biting down on his tongue before any louder noise could escape his mouth, then grimaced as his eyes fell upon the purple mess that was his right leg. Seeing how much it was bruised, it was no wonder why it hurt as it did. Gold was pretty sure that if he squinted his eyes, he would be able to notice the outline of a shoe nicely formed on his tibia. 

Gritting his teeth, he firstly probed the limb with his fingers barely containing himself from crying out then reluctantly tried to stand up.

A bad decision it turned out to be, at least for the first try, as his leg had almost folded under him the moment he put his weight on it, and he would have fallen hard on the floor if he hadn't caught himself on the nightstand.

_Stupid limb._

He took a shaky breath in and tried again. This time he had managed to stand up, but that was about it. Resigned, sweaty and out of breath, he sat back down. At least it wasn't broken - it had felt different from when it had been. Painful as hell, yes, but not even close to that time when he had tried to get out of bed while in Germany. 

Gold reached towards the nightstand with one hand, producing the small jar of ointment form the drawer. He grimaced after unscrewing it, the smell not pleasant in the slightest, but it had been helpful before so he had to suffer through the inconveniences. He rubbed the salve into his painful limb, restraining himself from cursing aloud. 

He had almost finished when the door suddenly creaked open and in his haste to pull down his pants leg, the jar slipped from his fingers and rolled away from him. He made a clumsy attempted to catch it but ended almost tumbling down from the bed instead.

And just like that, he could only watch as the jar rolled away from him and stopped at Belle's feet. She looked down startled at the item that had touched her foot, and it gave him enough time to hastily throw the blanket over his lap so it would cover his mangled leg.

Belle looked up from the jar to him, then back down. She fully stepped over the threshold and, after closing the door, she moved the food tray to her right hand before crouching down to pick up the salve with her left one.

Gold gulped, unable to meet her eyes as she put down the tray with the porridge and silently sat down next to him. The smell of the food suddenly made him want to gag, and the whole idea of eating anything totally abandoned him. He clenched his fists, watching with spite as they trembled, his mind jumping to yet another conclusion about his miserable self when suddenly almost all of them came to a halt.

Belle wrapped her arms around his torso, crushing him in a strong, firm embrace. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she didn't let go of him as at first, he stiffened then relaxed, melting into her. She held him as his shoulders started to tremble, when a shaky hand covered her arm and when his tears wetted her head.

"I'm broken, Belle." She heard him whisper against her hair.

"No, not broken," She answered firmly, holding him tighter. "Just chipped."

*

When he had finally made it down to the diner, he felt relieved. He knew he couldn't hide forever in his room, but between his leg hurting more than before and the unwillingness to face other people, it had been burdensome, to say the least. 

Here he was - now almost former captain Gold, the man who before all of that had at least been respected and didn't like at most, now reduced to the laughing stock and a pushover. But at least he had forced himself to limp down the stairs for the second time and drink his coffee in what somewhat resembled peace, so he counted this as a victory.

He was just about to raise the cup to his lips when suddenly there was a loud bang as something connected with his table, making him jump and almost spill the coffee all over. Used to the panic attacks by now, he forced his heart to slow down and not show how thrown off balance the whole noise had made him, he turned to look for the source. 

His eyes landed on what unmistakably was a golden handle of a cane, firmly planted on the table. With a scowl on his face, he glanced up to meet the unimpressed expression of missus Lucas, who without letting go of the cane, looked him dead in the eye.

"Something I can help you with, missus Lucas?" He asked, trying for an indifferent tone.

"This was my late husband's cane."

"All right..." His brows furrowed in confusion. Just where was the older woman going with this?

"Now it's yours," she said matter of factly.

What?

"I don't think I follow."

Missus Lucas grimaced. "I thought you a clever man, captain, so don't make me rethink that."

She lifted the cane, flipped it, then put it fully on the table, crossing her arms when finished. Gold watched her do it, now even more confused, but there was some other emotion coming to the surface. He didn't make a move to take the cane.

"I won't take it."

"And why is that?"

"I don't need it."

Not entirely true and the woman didn't even bat an eye at the blatant lie. 

"It cluttered my closet long enough. You can use it as either as door support, a tool to wack somebody or whatever, I don't care."

Gold's fingers twitched as if wanting to touch the item that now ley on a full display but he had caught himself in time to stop them. It was a beautiful thing - the shaft made of sleek, dark wood and the grip looked like made of gold with a distinctive, leafy pattern which made the captain briefly wonder how exactly could the late mister Lucas afford such piece.

The corner of Gold's mouth twitched. He knew exactly what the older woman was doing. He didn't make a move to take the cane, but he didn't push it away either. Widow Lucas humphed in approval then bend to pick up his empty plate. 

"You should talk to someone, be that Belle or anyone really," she said, and he almost choked on his coffee yet again.

"About what?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "About bad coping mechanisms." 

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

She threw the towel over her shoulder and turned around on her heel without answering, leaving him gaping after her. As she heard the uneven steps accompanied by a tap of a familiar cane leaving the diner, widow Lucas smiled to herself. And when she walked back to clean the table, she had found one used cruth left behind, and her smirk winded.

*

He would have never say it aloud, but the cane was a blessing. It was just the perfect hight - which made him wonder if missus Lucas had done something to it beforehand because there was no way her husband had been the same size as he was - and thanks to that even after the short walk around his room his shoulder wasn't yet hurting. He was finally able to walk more or less in a proper way, clasping the grip in his left hand instead of the right one as he used to do when using the cruth. His injured shoulder had been killing him every time the pad of the crutch had dug into his armpit, but with that issue now gone, he had needed to relearn how to walk again. Surprisingly, it was quite easy, but still, it took him two days to get used to. At first, he had thought he looked ridiculous - a simple, old ex-soldier with too-long hair and cheep clothes parading around with a golden-handled cane, but Belle insisted that it was making him look distinguished in a way. She even commented that his jacket seemed to fit him more lately. Odd, considering he didn't remember eating that much more, but as he had looked in the mirror in the morning, he had to admit she had been right.

He was on his third round around the room, just about to rest as his mangled limb was giving him not so subtle signs that he should take it easy when there was a rap at the door. Gold tightened the grip on his cane and with a frown, made his way towards the sound. He wasn't expecting anybody - Belle was still at school, so who could that be?

Hesitantly, he pushed on the handle.

His eyes briefly winded as he recognised the young man standing on the threshold.

"Um, Captain Gold? I'm sorry to intrude - "

"You're not intruding, officer," he cut in. Graham Humbert smiled slightly, not minding the way he had been interrupted in the slightest. Gold was almost sure that there wasn't a thing in the world that could upset the other man. 

"That's good to hear. Can I come in?"

"Be my guest," he didn't know what the officer would want, but either way, it was rude to keep the man standing on the corridor, and you didn't spend most of your life in the army not knowing how to hide your confusion.

"I'm going to take just a minute," Graham said while stepping in. He removed his cap and brushed back the stray lock of hair, that almost instantly had fallen back onto his forehead, making Gold smirk a little. "Can I ask you some questions, sir?"

"Am a suspected of anything?"

"No, no - of course not!" The man was quick to assure, chuckling nervously. "You see, there had been a break-in at Mr Booth's workshop yesterday."

"Was anybody hurt?" Gold asked frowning. A break-in? Yesterday? Odd, considering he had seen Marco just this morning and he hadn't said anything to him.

"August has a couple of bruises, but nothing serious." 

Gold nodded to that, but his frown didn't disappear.

"We do have the men suspected in custody," Humbert continued, "and considering you do work at Marco's I wanted to ask if you had seen anyone suspicious in the area recently."

Gold shook his head.

"I was working from here for a couple of last days."

"May I ask why?"

"An accident," he answered. 

Humbert nodded slowly, taking out his little notebook, flipping through the pages. Gold waited for the question about his appearance to arise, but nothing like that happened.

"Does the names Keith Nottingham and Haldor Frontland mean anything to you?"

His whole posture stilled but Humbert was still too busy with his notes to notice the small change in Gold's stance. Roy tightened his hold on the cane, his knuckles going white from the pressure as his mind jumped to the images of that night. What was going on here?

"Should they?" His tone was icy cold.

"They're the ones I got in custody and suspected of the break-in." 

Gold didn't answer, but his hand started to tremble a little. 

_One day Gary will get that girl of yours, and when he gets tired of her, I'll have my way with her._

"Think again, Captain," Humbert raised his eyes from the notebook, interrupting Gold's thought. He could be mistaken, but he could swear small sparks were dancing in the younger man's eyes. "Are you really sure you haven't seen those men around the workshop?"

Gold gaped at him, unable to comprehend the officer's words. Was he expecting him to say yes? And if so, why?

"Maybe you have gone on the stroll in the area let's say yesterday's evening?" The man pushed on, and now Gold was pretty sure the sparks were there. Was this a ghost of a smile on Humbert's face? 

Wait - was there a chance he _knew_ what had happened on that day?

Gold relaxed just so slightly. Clever man. 

"Now, that you mention it, I might have seen someone resembling those gentlemen."

"Splendid, that would match with other witnesses' reports, besides the one of Mr Booth's, of course. He did leave quite a good description of the culprits."

"Other witnesses?"

"Sorry, Captain," Humbert said, smiling while he put back the notebook into his pocket. "I can't reveal the sensitive information, but your landlady has very sharp eyes. Now, as that's cleared, I won't bother you again, sir. Good day."

The hat was back on the man's head, and he left without waiting to be escorted to the door. Gold watched him go, unable to say a thing. He stood rotten to the spot, trying to figure out what exactly had transpired in a matter of minutes. 

Because it had seemed that the two men, who unmistakeably were even more waste of air than he was, would be now locked in jail, even if for a little while.

He limped to the window, looking down the street below, catching a glimpse of officer Humbert as he made his way down the road. As if feeling he was being watched, the younger man turned around. It was weird how he knew where to look at, and when catching Gold's eyes, he dipped his head with a smile.

What and odd man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a cover for the War Roses series that that is now a part of this fic and posted as chapter 1, so that's why the numbering changed if you were wondering 😅  
> Also if you're interested, I made a playlist that helps me during writing this and you can find it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4kq1su6oaJcmm4vDadWZMC?si=29BsXB4lRBGhEoYDOGPouw
> 
> Until next time!


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, folks! Sorry for the long wait...  
> I think this story will have around five-six more chapters if nothing changes. We will see :)  
> Enjoy!

Storybrooke was a small town with most of its residents being born and raised there as their parents and grandparents had been before them. Although it hadn't changed much throughout the years, the town itself wasn't spared from the dreads of wars that overtook Europe in the span of the last thirty years. Shortage in supplies had been one of the many consequences, but it wasn't so cumbersome as it could have been considering the close community of the townsfolk. Nevertheless, when the soldiers had come to town, everybody looked at them in distrust. It wouldn't have been as much of a problem if not for the fact that they had drafted some of the younger men, thus leaving the people even more biased towards the newcomers.

Leroy hadn't been the only one who had remembered all too well the horrors of the first War, so when the soldiers came to stay, he had been the first to be all overly cautious of them. He had never talked about any of his worries, preferring a bottle of cheap alcohol to any nagging Martha Lucas could cause him - Wilfred's wife had always been good at that, he would give her that. Still, he had never felt comfortable around that woman. Wolf would probably slap him for even thinking badly about his wife and call him an idiot, but Leroy had never particularly cared about his friend's antics. He had been one weird man, albeit a good friend and every week since his death Leroy was drinking one glass of Scotch at the man's grave in honour of that friendship. 

Well, the point was, Leroy hadn't trusted the soldiers that had came with the second War with the pretext of training exercises. Within two weeks, he had been quite confident most of those lads wouldn't be seeing the next day when sent to the battlefield. But they had improved, at least most of them. Those training exercises had been how he had met captain Gold or more accurately seen him. The man had been different from the others. It had been clear to anyone looking that he had preferred to spend most of his time alone. Leroy could respect that, but it had been weird, seeing some other officers scoff at the man, and him doing almost nothing. It hadn't seemed to bother him at all as he had carried out his duties. Leroy was quite sure that there had been no malice behind Gold's clipped answers and the way he had been interacting with others, but his almost cold demeanour had been the reason that almost no one had been missing him when the boys had been called to arms. At least that's how it would have been if then the kiss between the Captain and Belle French hadn't happened and the whole town hadn't been turned around on its axis.

And then when Gold had come back, even though he had been supposed to be dead, Leroy hadn't been surprised - men like Gold were determined to say the least, and the whole story that Gaston had presented had been scrappy at best, Leroy hadn't spent his time around Wolf to not to recognize those things. The man who had come back, though, had been different from the one who had set off. 

Even now it was down to the details, but when looked close enough, one could see the contrast. The Captain was good at hiding it in public, a skill that spoke of an experience in the matter, and almost everyone could be fooled into believing that the War had left no mark on Gold. Leroy often wondered if it had something to do with the way the other officers had been looking down at the Scot or had he mastered that skill even earlier on. 

Well, it wasn't any of his business, and frankly, Leroy didn't want to know. But watched on he did. And through those months after the Captain's return, he had spotted another curious thing - Gary Gaston had been avoiding the man like the plague. He had never approached nor spoken to him, but Leroy could swear there had been something chilling in the young man's eyes when he was looking, no - glaring at the older man.

Curious. 

And Unsettling.

*

The phrase nervous as a schoolboy was very accurate to his current state. One could have thought that he was 43 years old, for God's sake, not a sweating teenager, but that's how Gold felt right now. Not like a soldier - or at least an ex one - who had killed, lost men under his command and dragged himself almost literally from hell, but like a kid so apprehensive that tying the knot of his only tie was nearly an impossible task.

What on Earth had persuaded him that it was a good idea?

Gold sighed frustrated and let his hands fell to his sides in resignation, leaving the tie unmade. The answer was quite simple, really - it was Belle.

_"I don't think, that's such a good idea, sweetheart."_

_"He won't bite you or anything you know? He's my dad, not a hound from hell."_

_"Sometimes I have doubts..." he murmured under his nose._

_"What was that?"_

_"That I don't like crowds?" He answered lamely, which earned him a playful hit to the shoulder. Gold chuckled, rubbing the spot. "Sorry."_

_"Remind my, why do I keep spending my time with you?"_

_"You insist that it's love, but why is beyond me."_

_Belle bent down and kissed the end of his nose, smiling. "Yes, if it's not love I don't know what else it could have been."_

So yeah, he had agreed to come to dinner at Belle's house, thus meeting her father properly for the first time. Come to think of it, it was quite an achievement, considering he had been back for months. Not that he had been talkative in the first place - Gold had traded maybe three sentences with the man before being shipped to the front, and now he was about to seat at the same table and manage a proper conversation. He had never been good at that, despised it even, and had wanted so badly to refuse, but the look on Belle's face had stopped him. 

This dinner, for whatever reason, was important to her, she wanted him in her house and meeting her father. It was a step forward in their relationship that he was so afraid to take because, after that, there was only one step left. One he was dreading the most and couldn't push himself to make, at least not yet.

Grimacing, Gold grabbed his cane and limped towards the bed to sit heavily on the unmade bedding, his head dropping to his chest. Resigned, he pulled at the end of the tie, not looking as it hung limply in his hand, almost touching the ground. How easier it would have been to just stay in his room, but right after thinking it, he knew he couldn't do it. He had already missed the Chrismas dinner as a nasty case of pneumonia had decided it had been the best time to make him cough out his lungs. He still felt guilty about it as Belle had decided to spent almost all her free time with him then, putting cooling compresses on his fevered forehead when she should have been with her father instead. 

To add to that, Gold wasn't blind nor stupid. Belle might have been smiling and telling him he just needed time and would be standing next to him through all of this, but he watched her when she thought he wasn't. She looked tired, to say the least, and he had caught her whipping her eyes more than once. Gold had tried to bring the subject subtly with Ruby Lucas but still couldn't find the right words how to do it. He was sure Belle was speaking with her friend, he really hoped she did, but Roy also knew that he was the reason behind her worries and confronting that fact was scaring him. He didn't want to be a burden, despised the fact that he was, but she kept on insisting on being there for him with every step, and no matter how much Gold hated it, he was glad that she did. Roy didn't want to think where he would have been if not for her.

But it was taking the toll on Belle and the least he could do was to go for a dinner with her father present at the table. 

When younger, he had wanted to be a part of a bigger family as his own was lacking in every aspect, but had never gotten the opportunity to meet Millah's parents. It had never occurred to him at that time that maybe Millah's reluctance had been one of the early warning signs. She hadn't invited them to the wedding nor Bae's christening. His ex-wife it seemed hadn't been good at maintaining emotional bonds, and he, on the other hand, had been young and too eager to form them. It had been a miracle they had lasted together for as long as they had. Baylen had probably been the only thing keeping them together, but even that hadn't been enough in the end.

_Baylen._

Was he even alive at this point? He would have been eighteen by now, or more accurately, almost nineteen with his birthday coming in March, and the military could have been all too eager and drafted him by the end of the War... Gold hated the fact of how young the boys under his command had been, how young they had died... Could he even hope...?

Roy ran his hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. He needed to pull himself together. He had to. For Belle. And his boy.

_Please, be alive._

*

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"You'll do fine, papa."

"You know, I can maybe go to the shop? And you can spend some time toge- "

"We're spending most of our free time together. You know it's not about that."

"Right."

Moe had spent the week before Christmas almost going bald from the nervousness about sitting at the same table with Gold. He had scolded himself all that time and had almost been ready to face the Captain when the message about the man's sickness had come. Maurice had known he should have felt bad about the other man, but it hadn't been easy to hide the relief that had washed over him. Before he had known it, he had been nodding all too vigorously as Belle had told him the news, saying she would be checking on Gold. He had known the meeting sooner or later had to take place, but to say he didn't look forward to this was underestimate. In the months after the Captain's return, Moe had learned to accept the fact that his daughter did love the man and that it hadn't been some fleeting feeling. He didn't have to like him, though. Moe had one opinion about the soldiers, and it wasn't a nice one.

"You'll do fine, papa. You'll see that you'll find something to talk about."

Well, it was inevitable. Moe sighed and cut the stems of the red roses that he freshly arranged into a bouquet then glanced at his daughter leaning against the counter.

"Alright. You can invite the Captain over to the dinner if he's willing."

"He has a name, you know."

Moe just muttered approvingly, focusing more on putting the roses into a vase. They would do nicely for the new years event; the mayor would be peased.

He didn't see Gary Gaston slipping to the back of the shop with a grave expression.

*

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Easy.

Yet not so in the slightest.

Wrapped in the thick woollen coat - a Christmas present from Belle which cost he really didn't want to spend to much time focusing on - Gold watched the mist that left his mouth. Despite the cold, the hand that held the cane was sticky with sweat. He had been standing like that for what felt like hours, but probably were mere minutes wondering if he should knock or not. 

He had almost done so when an unwanted realization had stopped him. He had never been to Belle's house before. Yes, he had stood on the next side of the road many times, but had never set a foot over the porch. 

It was a lovely house, painted a soft yellow, with an entrance through the flower shop overgrown with vines that had once been Belle's mother's pride and joy. Now, preserved and ran by Moe, it was one of the best-known places in Storybrooke. 

Gold corrected the satchel on his left shoulder and took a step forward. It would not do to stand there like a scarecrow. He was almost touching the doorbell when the doors had opened, and someone would have almost barreled into him if Roy's reflexes weren't quicker.

"Sorry, I di -. Captain. "

The sentence was cut short as it seemed the owner of the terse, low voice had realized into whom he had almost walked in. Gold had bearly managed to avoid the collision only thanks to his instincts that had him twisting his shoulder just enough to only brush against the other man. He didn't need to look up to know who had been now blocking his path. It was easy to guess, and quite an achievement on itself that the encounter had happened just now and not a long time beforehand. 

Gold drew himself up to his full height, trying to lean on his cane as little as possible. It didn't help much as he was still a lot shorter than the other man, but it had never stopped him from intimidating him. 

"Sargent. Haven't seen you for a while - how have you been?"

Gold's tone was light as if he was conversating about the weather, but his eyes were slightly narrowed, betraying that the encounter hadn't been a nice one in the slightest. There was an edge to his voice too, but he doubted that Gary Gaston had noticed it. Neither this nor the fact that Gold's fingers curled tighter around the cane's handle as his ankle screamed at him to elevate the weight that he was now putting on it.

"A lot of work, sir. Glad to have you back."

_I bet it is._

"Yes. I've been told I've been declared dead in action. What a relief that I wasn't, won't you say?"

"Yes, sir. A huge relief."

_Lair._

He could see it in the other man's posture - the want to say and do a complete opposite of the words that were leaving his mouth. Gold had spent enough time around Sargent Gaston to be able to read him like an open book, and it wasn't hard really. Besides, the younger man had already tried to get rid of him once, so Roy wondered what was stopping him from acting. But Gaston kept on standing as he had been - back straight like during the drills. The thing that betrayed him had been the muscle in his cheek that kept on spasming now and again.

"Well, I must be going. I have a dinner to attend to, you see."

Gold watched for a reaction and Gaston didn't disappoint. His right eyelid twitched, his jaw clenched and it seemed that he tried really hard not to ball his hands into fists.

"Of course, sir. I won't keep you waiting."

_Oh, you already did._

Gold could feel the man's eyes on his back as he turned around, his every instinct screaming at him not to expose himself - the last time his back was turned Gaston had put a bullet through his shoulder. And it had been Gaston - now Roy was more sure of that than ever.

But he did turn around and limped through the flower shop's door and even when they closed behind him, he could swear, Gaston's gaze was still drilling holes in his back even through the wood.

He purposefully didn't turn around and tried to ignore the itching between his shoulder blades. Gold wasn't an amateur. He knew how to mask his emotions most of the time - he wouldn't have gotten to where he was now if he didn't - so he limped further into the shop without a glance back.

The place itself wasn't big - cluttered with flowers at every possible surface and all, but it gave away a homely feel. It was easy to spot Belle's hand in some areas. There - a careful arrangement of blue hyacinths with golden ribbons on the far right and then the bouquet of roses arranged in a heart in the middle of the display. She had mentioned once that putting flowers into shapes calmed her mind. It was something she had inherited from her mother it had seemed. 

Gold looked around, unsure of where to go next, feeling like a fish out of water. Noone seemed to be at the front, and there was no move at the back indicating either Belle or her father hiding there, so not wanting to snoop around, he made his way towards the counter. The curiosity got better of him when he spotted a small photo frame, sitting on the edge. Gold picked it up without thinking, the corner of his mouth curling slightly when fully seeing the photograph.

A young woman was sitting on a rocking chair and smiling while holding a wee baby girl. Even without the colour, it was quite obvious who the woman was - her eyes and mouth were the same shape as Belle's not to mention the wavy hair. If the woman was who he thought she was then the child... Gold's smile winded.

"I'm sorry, we're closed! Oh." Gold bearly stopped himself from jumping in surprise and letting go of the frame upon hearing the low voice. He turned around and found himself looking at Belle's very uncomfortably looking father.

"Mr French. I apologize for barging in. The door was unlocked."

"Yes, yes. Not your fault, Captian."

By the look of it, it seemed that Gold wasn't the only one nervous about the oncoming dinner. Moe rubbed his hands on his trousers, then made a gesture towards the door. "Just a moment." 

Gold watched him turning the lock, only realizing that he was still holding on to the frame when French's gaze fell back on it after turning around. The silence that followed couldn't be more awkward.

"Belle resembles her mother a lot," remarked Gold while putting the frame back on its previous place, trying for a casual tone.

"Oh, she does. And not only in looks."

Not knowing what more there was to say they stood watching one another for good two minutes before French remembered that it would be better for both of them to head upstairs.

Yes, the dinner had already started to look like quite a disaster.

*

How a simple dinner could become an awkward affair was quite beyond her. Belle fisted her hand under the table, trying really hard not to bang her head on any of the china. It wasn't like she didn't notice and appreciated the effort that both men were putting into this assemble, no. The problem was, they were trying too hard it seemed - both of them. 

Her father looked like he wanted to bolt away any minute from the start, but he had politely inclined about the weather and Roy, looking like he had been facing a fairing squad would answer even more politely to his enquiries.

They were dancing around each other, shooting her sideways glances from time to time, and it was making Belle want to bang their heads together. She really didn't know what to do.

Roy had been back for months, and even if he looked and acted better than he had at first, she knew that a considerable part of it was just an act or more likely an act that slowly was becoming a reality. She made her peace that he would probably never tell her about what had happened during the War, but she wished he would trust her enough to know it didn't matter to her. She just wished he would understand and believe that he wasn't as worthless with his disabilities as he thought himself to be.

She had thought she had lost him once. 

That belief, that feeling - it had almost destroyed her. She didn't want to feel it again. It didn't change the fact that the helplessness was slowly getting to her.

"43."

"Oh? And you say you fought in the First War?"

Belle was pulled back from her thoughts by the sudden change of topic. It looked like her father had stopped beating around the bush and judging by the look on Roy's face, it would have been better if he hadn't.

"But that would make you - "

"16. Now lads had only gotten younger."

The silence that fell over the table felt heavy. Nobody liked to talk about the losses that the War had caused, most of all, Roy. A shadow fell over his face every time the topic was breached, and now it seemed, those scars laid far deeper in his past than she had thought. 

"I didn't know you have fought then," Belle whispered, looking down on the plate. She wasn't even born then, and Roy had already... She glanced up, and he sent her a small yet sad smile. 

"That last year hadn't been one of the fondest memories."

16...

"Hey," she glanced up when she felt his hand on hers under the table, squeezing reassuringly. Roy was still smiling, even if it didn't reach his eyes. "It's in the past. Not important."

She rotated her hand, threading her fingers through his and squeezed back.

"Nothing that's part of you is unimportant."

His smile winded, not enough to show his teeth, but enough to finally to reach his eyes and he was just about to answer when a clutter of cutlery made both of them jump in their sits. Belle turned her head towards her father, bearly resisting from grinning at how he tried not to look affected, busing his hands with cleaning the splatters of soup on the table with a napkin.

"How silly of me. Clumsy and all, can't reach for a cigarette without a mess," Moe muttered, not looking at them but the flush on his cheeks betraying him.

Belle chuckled then and stood up, taking the napkin from her father and kissing him on the cheek.

"I'll leave the two of you to your smoking and be back in a minute, all right?"

She needed some fresh air.

"You sure?" Moe looked up, his eyes running over her face, searchingly. "I can clean up - "

"It's fine, papa. Relax. You both behave yourselves."

The remark made both Gold and her father almost choke on their drinks, and she shook her head while taking the dishes away.

"Men," she muttered. 

Gold watched her go with a lump forming in his throat, briefly wondering if she was doing it on purpose. He knew she needed time to breathe, the small remark that he had been a part of the First War seemed to shake her, and he chid himself for not speaking about it sooner. Maybe then the air between them would have been cleaner? But he had seen no reason to add to the already heavy baggage of guilt. Besides the topic had just simply never come up.

"Well, it seemed we had been left once again alone," Belle's father muttered which made Gold glance in his direction. "Care for a smoke, Captain?"

The corner of Gold's mouth twitched.

"I never say no to that."

They smoked in silence; both of them focused on the smoke rising and dancing in the air. When younger, Gold liked to look for shapes and make rings that rose high towards the ceiling, he had a brief memory of his son clapping at the display those rare times Roy had been smoking indoors. He didn't know when he had ceased doing those silly things.

"Colette wanted me to stop," remarked Moe as he shook ashes from the cigarette. "Couldn't bring myself to do it, honestly. A nasty habit."

Gold grimaced. "Belle doesn't like it either."

"She's stubborn, I warn you. She got it after her mother."

Gold didn't answer. Instead, he flexed his fingers over the handle of his cane that rested against his leg. Stubborn was one way to put it. 

"You got any children, Captain?"

He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the smoke. That question was one of the reasons he hated small talks. Gold knew he could lie, or brush it aside, but something in him didn't want to. A little honesty wouldn't hurt, would it?

"A son," he answered, managing not to react to the surprise written all over French's face and resisting from riching towards the absent pendant. He took a long drag instead. "He's away." More or less.

"Well then," Moe cleared his throat. "As a parent speaking to a parent, you must understand why I'm worried."

"Mr. French - "

"No, Captain, Let me finish." - He raised his hand, looking at the ex-soldier through the smoke. "I can't say I like any of it. I can't say I understand. But what I can say is that I want my daughter happy. So, are we on the same page here?" 

Gold looked to the side, through the doorway that Belle had disappeared earlier. Yes, he had remembered how she had told him how her father had been insistent about her relationship with Gaston, but could he blame him? If he was in Maurice's shoes, wouldn't he act the same? On one side, a young man and a friend of the family while on the other, there had been an old soldier, new to the town and unfamiliar - Moe's choice and opinion weren't as surprising when faced with the facts. 

He turned his gaze back towards the other man. "Yes. I think we are."

"Good." They lit another cigarette. "Have you thought about proposing?"

Gold choked on the smoke. How could that be that it was the man, who had looked like he had wanted to escape earlier was the same one as asking those questions?

"I think that this matter is more between Belle and me," he remarked, not wanting to dwell on the subject. 

Moe shrugged his shoulders. "I would have given you her mother's ring, but I had pawned it years ago. I was quite - "

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Gold stood up, putting out the cigarette and gripping his cane tightly. A polite talk he could do, but this conversation was starting to enter areas that he really didn't want to poke.

"Yes, yes, of course."

Judging by how relieved Belle's father looked at the announcement, he was more than happy to let it go. 

Gold limped through the doorway, but not finding Belle anywhere near the kitchen he made his way towards the open balcony door. The air was chilly, as adequate for early January, and Gold shivered as a gush of wind blew some of the snowflakes against his face. He cautiously stepped over the threshold, instantly spotting Belle by the railing. She was leaning on her elbows, her cheeks red from the cold, although dressed in a heavy coat - his coat.

"You'll catch a cold if you keep standing there, you know?"

She didn't jump when hearing his voice only slightly turned in his direction, a smile dancing across her lips.

"Care to warm me up, then?"

His eyes softened, and without hesitation, he draped his arm over her shoulder, enjoying the warmth that spread inside of him as Belle snuggled closer, bringing her arms around his middle.

She didn't speak for a while, face buried in Roy's coat, listening to his heartbeat as her cheek rested on his chest. He smelled of tobacco that weirdly didn't match him as her father smoked a different brand, but beneath it, there was that other smell that was so undoubtedly his that it made her feel safe and calm.

"Did my father scared you off?" she mumbled.

"Hmm? No, I don't think so. He... um, he spoke of proposing, though," he added after a moment, hesitant. She could feel his shoulders tensing.

She glanced up, searching his eyes, but he avoided looking at her. She didn't know what to feel. Hope? Fear? 

"Roy - "

"Would you like me to?" He interrupted, meeting her gaze. There was something in his eyes that she didn't know how to read. Uncertainty? "To propose, I mean."

"And would you?"

A question for a question. Only fair, considering they both seemed to know the answer.

Roy sighed, looking into the distance.

"Of course, I would. But is it bad that not yet? I- Well, yeah."

Belle couldn't help but smile softly and only after a moment she climbed on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

"No. How about we both wait a little bit longer, then?"

"I'm sorry, I keep worrying you. You don't deserve that."

"Roy - "

"No. Let me finish," Roy interrupted her for a second time, twisting so he could look her in the eye. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Belle. When was the last time you went out with Ms Lucas or anyone else?"

Her silence was enough of an answer, so Gold took her chilly hands in his. "I can't love you enough for what you're doing for me, but you need to take care of yourself too. It's enough that one of us is, well, not enough."

By the end, he wasn't looking at her anymore, and Belle rubbed her hand over his cheek to comfort him as best as she could. They were quite a pair.

"You're enough for me."

He turned his face and kissed her palm.

"I love you."

"I love you too, and you're right, but you can't stop me from worrying."

"I worry too, you know?"

She giggled lightly. Yes, quite a pair they were.

"How about a deal?" She asked, taking a step away from him.

"You want to make a deal with me?" He asked, frowning.

"Yep. I will try not to over-worry, and you'll try not to think about yourself as inadequate."

He raised his brow.

"Hard terms, but it seems fair, I admit."

"Then deal it is, captain Gold."

"All right, miss French. A deal is struck." They shock their hands just as a chill went down both of their bodies, making them shiver. "Now, how about we head inside, or your father may wonder what we have gotten into."

Belle giggled then hugged him one last time before taking his hand into hers and tugging him towards the flat. "God forbid, he came looking."

The rest of the dinner went more smoothly, but as Gold returned to his small room, the remark that Belle's father made about his wife's wedding band kept playing over in his head. There was only one pawn shop in Storybrooke. Maybe it was time to make a short visit there.

*

Gary Gaston stood outside the flower shop door for a long time after they had closed after captain Gold. 

He didn't know what to do. After he had heard about the accident involving Nottingham, he had hoped the man would be in bad enough shape to do Gary a little favour and die, but it seemed to be a futile hope.  
Getting his own hands on Gold was continuing to be a problem considering he was hardly ever alone...

Some would think that Gary had forgotten, that he had gotten over the humiliation that was loosing to an older man, but no, he hadn't. Nor had he forgiven.

A lone snowflake fell on the tip of his nose, making him look up to the sky.

Well, he had been inpatient and too sure of himself once. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

Gary Gaston turned on his heel and marched towards his home. 

It didn't matter if Gold suspected him or not - a good hunter could wait as long as needed, and if anything, Gary was a good hunter.

**Author's Note:**

> As of now, I think it's gonna close withing 3 chapters, but we'll see. Thanks for reading!


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